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FELON'S TRACK: 



BY 



MICHAEL DOHENY 



Hurrah for the mountainside, 
Hurrah for the bivouac, 
Hurrah for the heaving tide, 
If rocking the « Felon's Track. 



PUBLISHED BY H. W. HO L BROOK, 

180 FULTON STREET. 




4 







** *5£~ 



V. | 




. #£* ' - < 







\«.«a wj^l to. inc. 

THE FELON'S TRACK; 

OR 

HISTORY OF THE LATE ATTEMPTED OUTBRE^ 

IN 

IRELAND: 



Embracing the Leading Events in the Irish Struggle, from the year 184$, 
to the close of 1848. 



BY 


. 


MICHAEL DOHENY, 


Author of " The American Revolution." 


Hurrah for the mountain Bide ! 

Hurrah for the b vaoc ! 
Hurrah for tte heaving tide ! 

If rocking the Felon's Track! 


NEW YORK: 


BLISHED BY W. H. HOLBROOKE, 


130 FULTON STREET. 









^ 



Entered leeordinc to Acl of I the Clerk's I 

District Court . .\ 1 M Ul 1 1 I 

to ! OUT Lord, One Thousand Eight Hundred and FoWy-ninc 



maii.m: Pi 

.NT- 



.' • ^ J s • . s 






V * v 

\ 



\ . - . * %\. v 



» 



ftrtrtratt on. 

TO 

GENERAL JAMES SHIELDS, 

UNITED STATES' SENATOR, &c, &c. 



Dear Sir: 

In dedicating to you this narrative, I have been influenced by one 
consideration only. I have no title to your friendship. I cannot claim 
the most remote affinity with your career in arms. There is nothing 
connected with this sad fragment of history, either in fact or hope, to 
suggest any association with your name or achievements. But as my 
main object is to show that Ireland's failure was not owing to native re- 
creancy or cowardice, I feel satisfied, that of all living men, your position 
and character will best sustain the sole aim of my present labor and am- 
bition. 

In past history, Ireland holds, a high place ; but her laurels were won 
on foreign fields, and the jealous literary ambition which raised adequate 
monuments to these stormy times, denied to her swords, the distinction 
they vindicated for themselves, in the hour of combat. The most bril- 
liant, unscrupulous, and daring historian of France, degraded the nig- 
gard praise he accorded them, by making it the medium of a false and 
contemptible sneer. " The Irish soldier," says Yoltaire, " fights bravely 
everywhere but in his own country." 

Without pausing here to vindicate that country from such ungrateful 
slander, it is enough to say that you were not placed in the same unhap- 
py position as the illustrious exiles from the last Irish army — soldiers 
of fortune in the service of a foreign prince. You were a citizen of 
this free Republic, and a volunteer in its ranks ; it was your country, 
and you and your compatriots, who followed the same standard, did no 



4 DEDICATION. 

oisnonOT to tho^e, who were bravest among the brave, on the best debated 
. • in Europe, 

[ n the v, rery hope, all who yet oherish the ambition of reel- 

izin" for Ireland so independent destiny, point to yoni omreer ii in en« 
oourmging sngniy, if n,,t ■ ooniplets justification for not despairing of 

their country. It i that 1 have olslmed the 

Loner of inscribing yoni name on the first pegs of this, my latc.-t labor 

in her one 

I remain, dear Sir, 

\'.-ry resp tfully and .sincerely your-. 

MICHAEL DOHENY. 
New York, 8g*. 20, 1840. 



INTRODUCTION. 



There are few facts detailed in the following pages that need explana- 
tion here. If my motive in writing Wreaa, were personal gratification, or 4[ 
simply a desire to preserve a memorial of scenes in which I took an 
anxious part, I might labor to make the narration more interesting to 
my readers, without any care fot future consequences. 

But through every disaster Lpreserved unbroken faith in the purpose #-*- 'S^*-"**-— 
and courage of my country. Ibelieved, and still believe that her true 
heart is faithful to liberty and hopeful for the future ; and this convic" 
tion involved me in a struggle with the apparently opposite tendency of 
the facts I was bound to narrate. Had I to write for a new generation? 
upon whom these facts could have made no false impressions, my task 
would be easy. I am persuaded that a simple statement of all that oc- 
curred, would satisfy any candid mind, that no disgrace attached to 
Ireland in her recent discomfiture. But I must needs confess that it is 
a task of extreme difficulty to reconcile her fall with the pre-conceived 
notions or present prejudices of those who read her; story through the 
false medium of the press : nor do I hope for more than partial success 
from the details I have been able to give of the circumstances of which 
she was the victim and the dupe. 

It is impossible fully to appreciate the pernicious effect of Mr. O'Con- 
nell's teaching, without reviewing in minute detail, the leading circum- 
stances of his wonderful career, and the matchless and countless re- 
sources with which he upheld his fatal system. In dealing with this 
part of my subject, my difficulties have been multiplied and enhanced, 
by a strong desire to do him no injustice, and to leave untouched by 
doubt or suspicion, a character so entertwined with my country's love. 
But it became necessary to refer to those acts which chiefly tended to 
increase the obstacles which beset our endeavors. In doing this, whether 
here or elsewhere in my narrative, if I use phrases which would seem to 
imply harshness to his memory, I wish them to be understood as applied 
in reference to the attempt to effect the deliverance of Ireland by force 
of arms, and establishing her entire and perfect independence. I have 
avoided this question, assuming that I wrote only for those who agreed 
with me in the belief that such is her true destiny, and the end for which, 
her children ought to strive. 

In this view of her recent struggle, there can be no doubt of the ten- 



6 INTRODUCTION, 

I Iff O'Oonnell'i polioj raliae, di igraec enfeeble and cor. 

ruj.t tin iple, and it is ia that lenSS, and that only, I have al- 

. of him. 

Another subject, of perhaps greater delicacy and difficulty, was 
pari taken by the Oatholio clergy. On my arrival in America, I found 
a teres contest agitating, dividing, and enfeebling the IrMi American 
il&tion. It n 1 on one ride, that the entire failure was at- 

tributable to the Catholic priests, and that in oppoaing the liberation of 
t f [reland, they noted in accordance with some recogniaed radical princi- 
ple of the ohuroh. 

I oonld not assent to either of these propositions. I knew several 
I t '• • priests who wen- fully prepared to take their share in an armed conflict; 

in faet. the vast majority of those I nief at the time. And again, with 

toh as did interfere, and opposed the efforts of the people's 
chiefs, I do not believe thai one man was influenced by considerations 
connected with, or emanating from the Church in its corporate capacity. 
< »• Mi ( m lonnell'a polioy, already referred to, none were Minder victims 

than SOme of the priests It had made such an impression on them, that 

they searoely could believe anything was real, or any Bentiment was true; 
and when they admitted itfl truth is was only to prove its madness. Of 
oilier and more questionable moth 1 ball iaj nothing here. 

Bnl while 1 feel the injustice of tl ■ made against 

whole body of the priesthood, I would be unfaithful to my pur] 

i my convictions if I concealed the acts end language of those among 
them, wh«« interposed and unhappily exercised baneful influence on the 
abortive attempt of their unfortunate country. I shall only lay further, 
that what relates to them, is the only pari of my narrative which gave 

mr shame to tell 

T have only a word to add in refer*: ■ edings in the 

. • f •' \- lation now made public for the first time. It 

i, i; . and I doubt not will be said, thai tl matters which 

morally] ret. [ readily admit that, although 

m whatever, either expi 1 or impli any 

I in committee any more than in the public hall ; still. I 

should no( disclo | arl of its proceedings, if 1 were no1 Domiciled 

pjtn i ■• Upon one subject, and thai the most im- 

rtanl to the character of my illustrious friend, no other proof was 

■ lahlr. A • icit understanding, in virtue of which 1 would be 

I tC admit, any obligation i not and could D0< ex- 

as would, if divulged^ endanger the safety, or 

i,,.- oeiatibn. What I tell of the proceedings 

, n if it i I, would scarcely have any auoh 



INTRODUCTION. 7 

effect. But every one knows it not only does not exist, but that it has 
left no memery which it would he possible to degrade. Its physical ex- 
istence long survived the last spark of moral vitality, and its efficiency 
now consists in this, if it warn all men against the species of terrorism 
which finally prevailed in its councils, and effected its overthrow. 

In certain circumstances which I relate, I may possibly make some 
mistakes in the dates, owing to the difficulty of finding those dates in 
odd numbers and broken volumes of the Journals to which alone I have 
had access. 

It would have given me the sincerest pleasure to add to the collection 
of heads, which I have been able to procure, those of others who took an 
honorable part in the Irish struggle. Foremost among them are John 
Martin and Kevin Izod O'Doherty, who followed in the footsteps and 
shared the fate of John Mitchel. But I am not aware that there are 
any likenesses of them in existence ; at all events they are not to be ob- 
tained in this country. 

There are others too, mentioned in my narrative, whose likenesses I 
would feel delighted to present to my readers, and some, who although 
cursorily or not at all mentioned, acted a noble and devoted part. Of the 
first, are the companions of my wanderings, James Stevens and John 
O'Mahony ; and of the second, Doctor Antisel, Richard Dalton Williams, 
James Cantwell, Richard Hartnet, Patrick O'Dea, and indeed many 
others, of whose efforts and sacrifices it would be a source of pride to me 
to make honorable mention. 

I may be permitted to take this opportunity, to assure them and others 
of whom I have not spoken, that no name has been omitted by me from 
any feelings of dislike or any desire to depreciate the services and sacri- 
fices of a single man among the hundreds, whose exile or ruin attests 
the sincerity of their convictions, and the purity of their patriotism. 
Even with men who do not take the same view of last year's history as 
I do, their names and characters will go far to redeem its darkest traces 
from shame and obloquy. They are now scattered over the wide earth, 
and there is not one among them from the highest to the humblest, 
whom I do not hold in the utmost honor and esteem. 



New York, Sept. 21, 1849. 



THE FELON'S TRACK. 



CHAPTER I. 

RETROSPECT — COMMENCEMENT OF THE REPEAL STRUGGLE. 
EARLY EAYS OF THE ASSOCIATION. 

The appearance of this narrative will surprise no one. For 
apology, if any be needed, the writer may trust to his own share 
in the transactions with which it deals ; and still more so perhaps 
to the misrepresentation to which, during their progress he had 
been personally subjected. But personal vindication imparts nei- 
ther interest nor importance to history, while it necessarily de- 
tracts from its dignity and good faith. Besides, time, with the 
disastrous events marking its more recent course, have silenced 
the voice of calumny ; and the writer undertakes his task with 
no personal feeling to gratify or even to consult. The character 
of others, now unable to be heard is far dearer to him than his 
own : and while he aspires to justify, before the world, their singu- 
lar career, distinguished throughout by generous and lofty pas- 
sions, surpassing intellect, and measureless love of their country 
and countrymen — a career so brilliant and instructive even in the 
last hours of gloom, — he will endeavor to infuse into the history 
of their struggles and their fate, that generous tenderness toward 
others, that spirit of self-sacrifice and supreme love of truth, which 
were among their noblest characteristics. 

The undertaking suggests but one painful consideration — the 
impossibility of treating the subject fully and fairly without inves- 
tigating facts far anterior to the late struggle, but coincident in their 
effect with its progress and development, and stamping their per- 
nicious and fatal influence upon the spirit and conduct that led to 
a final overthrow. This will necessarily involve, an inquiry, into 
the late conduct and teaching of Mr. O'Connell, which the writer 
would most willingly avoid. Mr. O'ConnelPs name and charac- 
ter fill a mighty space in history. They are the most cherished 
recollections in his country's memory ; and she clings to them 
with loving pride in this her hour of utter desolation. Thn hand 
that traces these recollections would be the last to aim a blow at 
the object of her sacred affections ; and if in obedience to a more 
binding obligation, Mr. O'ConnelPs policy be questioned and con- 
demned, his influencing motive shall be unchallenged and unar- 
raigned. What his final purpose was, and how he had determin- 
ed to effect it, had his life been spared, and his course left unimpe- 



9 Tin: FELON'S TRACK. 

ded, now rest vrith him in hit ( I others to write hki 

y and vindicate his career. By me eren his mistakes shall be 
treated a Itfa forbearance. 
A brief reference to the struggle for Catholic emancipation, be- 

b here imperative. That struggle has had qo equal in histo- 
ry uoc for its moral grandeur, uor for its triumph -but for the 
singular difficulties which the position oi tin- Irish Catholic impo- 
sed on those who engaged in it It is an error to < - all n emanci- 
pation. It was neither the first nor the last, nor even the most 
important in the train of concessions, which are entitled to the 
tiame of emancipation. The pains and penalties of the u pmud 
foist," bad been long abolished, and that barbarous code had been 
compressed into cold and stolid exclusiveness. But the I 
which a long and unrelenting slavery had burned into the char- 
acter <>t" the country, remained. The lie of law. which assumed 
then tence of the Catholic had infused itself into his na- 

ture, and while it was erased from the statute book, it was legi- 
hlc mi Ins heart. That terrible necessity of denying his feelings, 
his property, Ins religion and Ins very being, had stamped its de- 
grading influence on his nature. In a moral sens,' the law had 

me a truth- there was no people. The Catholic -entry, gid- 
dy by their recent elevation hail only changed for that semblance 
of liberty, their old stem spirit of resistance and revenge. Their 
new concessions hung gracefully around them, but they were like 
gratis on an ash stock their growth was downward, and they 
want d the stature and dignity of the native tree. Such were 
the means at Mr. < >'< kraneli's disposal. His enemies on the other 
hand were false, powerful, dexterous and unscrupulous. His ef- 
necessarily partook- of the character both ^\ tin- weapons he 
he was obliged to wield, and the foes he struck down. As he ad- 
d to eminence and strength, means the most crafty and cruel 
were taken to overthrow him. every one of whicj) he foiled by a 

city infinitely above that of Ins oppressors. So successful 
had he been in deceiving the champions of intolerance, that of all 
the great qualities displayed in that wonderful struggle, that which 

!ii"M prized, was the cinmini: o[ evasion. It left behind it 

an tnduring and destructive influence. Dissimulation in political 
action began to he regarded as a public virtue, and long after- 

Is, when men sought l<> assert tin' dignity of truth, their can- 

dor was ch unsf them as a heinous crime. It will he 

hereafter how fatally this fact operated against meir efforts. 
The wry character of emancipation lias assumed an I 

T , oi the nation was boundless—its 
gratitude immeasurable. In the shout that hailed the delh 
earlier d< a. No on,- remembered the men 

whose stupendous exertions wrung from the reluctant spirit of a 
far darker time, the right of living, of worship, of enjoying prop- 
erty, and exercising the franchise. All these, and mure which 

remotely, denied t«> the Catholics had 



THE FELON'S TRACK. 11 

been before this, accorded to them. Yet the interest and impor- 
tance of winning access to Parliament, to the higher ranks of the 
army, and, perhaps a stray seat at the privy council, acquired the 
name of emancipation, and Mr. O'Connell monopolized its entire 
renown. He was styled the " Liberator," and his achievement 
designated as "striking the fetters from the limbs of the slave, and 
liberating the altar." In truth, the import of emancipation was 
so exaggerated, and its history so warped, that even now at a dis- 
tance of more than twenty years, both the act and the actors, 
are so misunderstood that it requires no little daring to approach 
a question involving the sensibilities, prejudices, and passions of 
an entire generation. 

A true rappreciation, might have given Mr. O'Connell a differ- 
ent and higher destiny. Not alone the boundless exultation 
of the Catholic, but the mortified pride of the baffled protestant, 
also stamped its influence on his fortunes, prospects and career. 
Tn proportion as he was to the former an object of adulation and 
pride did the latter hoard up, in his heart for him, enduring envy 
and insatiable hate. Another circumstance too, which Mr. 
O'Connel did not create and could not in the beginning control, 
contributed to mar his future glory. This was the pecuniary 
compensation which the emancipated Catholics kneeled to pre- 
sent him. It is far from being intended here to disparage the of- 
fering or decry its acceptance. On the contrary, if this were the 
proper place, both would be vindicated with zealous pride. But 
the effect of the continued collection, on Mr. O'ConnelPs conduct 
and efficiency, was baneful in the extreme. And it was among 
the most prominent circumstances in shaping his career. 

Mr. O'Connell entered the House of Commons under auspices 
more flattering and encouraging than ever smiled, on the advent, 
to that assembly, of any other man. In whatever light he was re- 
garded, he was far the foremost personage of his time. How his 
subsequent career might justify the hushed awe, with which a 
proud senate received him, if he had devoted himself to the broad 
and comprehensive questions of imperial jurisprudence, for which 
he seemed so eminently fitted, it would be idle now to conjecture. 
Certain it is that no act of his after life, varied and wonderful as 
it was, realized the promise of that glad and glorious morning. 

Lord Anglesea who had been removed from the viceroyalty, 
for suspected treachery to the cause of intolerance, was restored 
to his office, by more distinguished converts and was received by 
the people with tumultuous acclaim. His popularity was short- 
lived. The present chief justice Doherty was then Attorney 
General. He incurred the wrath of Mr. O'Connell, in consequence 
of treachery which he had exhibited in conducting a trial at 
Clonmel. This led to a fierce encounter in the House of Com- 
mons — the first great trial of Mr. O'Connel's powers — in which 
Doherty's friends claimed for their champion, a decisive victory. 
However unjust may be that judgment, Mr. O'ConnelPs admirers 



BJ Till: FELON'S TRACK. 

Dtsjapelk -.1 to admit thai lie tailed in his impeachment and 
principally in consequence of a letter written by Mr. Shiel, then 
second to no other Irishman. .Mr. Shiel had been associated witli 
the Attorney < ienerai, in the prosecution at ( llonmell, and Ins let- 
let boldly justified the conduct winch the great popular tribune 
vehemently and indignantly impugned. This was quite unex- 
pected, and greatly affect id Mr. OConnell's cause. But whether 
.Mr. Doherty failed or succeeded, he was rewarded, and almost 
avowedly, by the chief justiceship of the common pleas. The ap- 
pointment was a duvet insult U) Mr. t V( 'oiinell. and scarcely a less 
direct insult to the Irish har. and the Irish nation. Mr. Doherty 

was regarded as a man of great forensic ability, but no legal at- 
tainments. He badscamely acquired any practice, and no dis- 
tinction whatever : SO that Ins elevation to a post, he was BO inad- 
equate to fill, gave universal dissatisfaction, and was read as evi- 
dence that the Government of Ireland was subservient to an un- 
scrupulous and audacious taction. 

Soon after the date Of this appointment the first repeal associa- 
tion was established by Mr. ( >'( lonnell. His motives were at once 
bitterly assailed. By some he was charged with being infi 

/ persona] mortification. By some his conduct was attri- 
buted to a love ei" turbulence and money. By some it was said 
h>- only intended the agitation as a threat, by means of which he 
could enforce a wiser, more liberal, and just administration of the 
law and government in Ireland. Few, if any. believed him to he 
in earnest and sincere. But the condition of the country, and the 
principles ,,f m,. < t'Connell'a early life would Buggest higher mo- 
tives; and the perseverance and intensity of feeling and purpose, 
with which lie urged the deliverance iA his country in after times. 
B that lie was a stranger to the sordid considerations which 

envy or fear coupled with his fust Labors in that direction. Cer- 
tain it is. that whatever were Ins motives, it could he no tempting 

ambition, that determined him to transfer the exercise of bisabili- 
ties to the tribune of angry agitation from that more legtimatj I 
loftier arena, whicb with unsurpassed energy he had won. 
The agitation succeeded rapidly. The Government became at 

once intolerant and impotent They proclaimed down 

tation : hiit this only imparted to it. activity, energy, and (strength, 

The Government gave a/ay to a furious storm, which had been 

|athering elsewhl re. The great reform ministry BUCC 
with Bar! Grey at its head: and m the struggle for imperial par- 
uamentary reform, Ireland and her independence a 

During the intellectual conflict that followed, Mr. 1 1 C ill as- 

I Ins pre-eminence, and won a lofty name. He made tar the 
must successful speech mi the (jiiestion of reform. It not only ex- 
ceeded the ahlest orations of the British hut was. pep- 

, the moat triumphant he himself had ever delivered But 
Ins position soon changed. Prom being the unanswerable cham- 
pion of the ministerial majority in tic 1 1 [ t Commons, h< 



THE FFXON'S TRACK. 13 

the lead of a small opposition, which resisted the Government on 
the Irish Bill. Although the minister was the exponent and stern 
advocate of the widest liberality, in applying the reform to Eng- 
land, he undertook to defend, on the very opposite principle, the 
niggard liberty he was prepared, in the same measure, to extend to 
Ireland. In this unnatural and unexpected turn of affairs, Mr. 
O'Connell took a proud and bold stand, against the government, 
and for his country. The ministry succeeded, but he had more 
than ever acquired the confidence and unbounded gratitude of 
his countrymen. Thenceforward, he was their acknowledged 
chief, and his words expressed not more his own, than the public 
will. 

His remonstrances were vehement and angry, but they were 
vain. The ministry disregarded the claims of justice, as well as 
the voice of the orator. The quarrel became personal and vin- 
dictive to so great an extent, that Mr. O'Connell's support would 
almost ensure the defeat of any measure at the hands of the Eng- 
lish Whig faction. 

While this was his position in the House of Commons, he was 
preparing the elements of an organization which was destined to 
embrace the whole island. He started the first great repeal asso- 
ciation, which was at once attended with marvellous success. 
Forty-four members of Parliament were under its control, if not 
in its ranks. A discussion of the merits of repeal was forced in 
the House of Commons, by the intemperate zeal of the member 
for Cork. The motion was resisted by the whole weight and in- 
fluence of the Ministry. But in a resolution proposed as an amend- 
ment, both Houses concurred in acknowledging that Ireland's 
complaint was founded in justice, and in solemnly pledging them- 
selves to the practical redress of her grievances. The resolution 
was carried to the foot of the throne, and there received the sanc- 
tion of royalty. 

But that resolution remained and remains unfulfilled. The 
ministry which proposed it, redeemed their promise by an Algerine 
measure of coercion, which Mr. O'Connell denounced as " base, 
bloody, and brutal." His opposition, and their own recreancy of 
principle, tended rapidly to their overthrow. Lord Stanly in ha- 
tred to Mr. O'Connell, and his country, abandoned the Government, 
which he charged with truckling to the great demagogue's will. 
The country on the other hand, withdrew its confidence from 
them, on the ground that they truckled to their hereditary foes, and 
allowed the principles of the Tories to influence Parliament 
in the name, and through the agency of the Whigs. Division 
and weakness followed ; and the result, was a hreak up of the 
administration, which was remodelled with Lord Melbourne for 
its chief, on the understanding that more liberal views should gov- 
ern its future course. An aliance was entered into with Mr. 
O'Connell, whose support the prime minister openly claimed and 
as openly boasted of. Then was formed what was known as the 



1 1 Tin: n LH -\ a Ti \<'K. 

K Litchfield House compact" This compact, if rocfa the under* 
standing that existed, can be called, was based upon the assurance 
that the most liberal measures of justice, should be extended to 
Ireland, and that in the administrative department, the Govern- 
ment should apply itself dilligently to the reform, and purifying 
of all public functions and functionaries. What was the nature 
or extent of Mr. O'Gonnell's engagement, 1 do not pretend to know. 
Hut whether he pledged himself to abandon for ever the struggle 
for independence, or only to place it in abeyance (or a season, to 
facilitate the action of the government in re£ rence to then 
intentions and favorable promises, he so tar fulfilled his en$ 
ment, as to dissolve the association. 

That association was composed of various and very conflicting 
elements. The motives which influenced many or its leaders, 
were equally varied. .Many joined it merely bo wise Mr. O'Con 
nrll was its founder, and its guide. .Many among the middle 
ranks of society, had acquired a sort of interest in agitation, they 
could not easily surrender, it had gained them local distinction, 

and Ratified B morbid vanity. Profuse votes of thanks were 
their incentive and reward. To correspond with .Mr. Ray, or per- 
haps the Liberator, consummated their ambition, and for aught be- 
yond that, they felt n«» concern. Others, there were, corrupt by 

nature, and cimnitrj m design, whose political exertions had per- 
sonal advancement lor their sole aim ; and others, still who never 
believed Mr. O'Connell sincere, hut joined the association and 
shouted their approval, because too contemptible and feeble to ac- 
quire distinction, except through the echo ..t' his voice, or under 
shelter of his fame. To the false, and the sordid, and the indif- 
ferent, the dissoluton of the confederacy was a welcome event: 
but the people, yet uncorrupted, looked m[ passively with 
nixed hearts. 

Physical contagion generally begins at the bases of society, and 
trails its way slowly to the upper ranks, occasionally dealing doom 

to some hard hearts, that mocked, it may be. its first uncaivd tor 
victims. Hut moral corruption begins with the highest, and em- 
braces the w hole circle <if society in its descent So it was in this 
instance. Members of parliament who had solemnly pledged 
themselves to the disenthrallment (»i" their country, accepted the 
s, and entered into the service i^i the government, who had 

one and all vowed they would prevent the fulfilment Of the bU8t- 

ings pledge, even at tin' risk of a civil war. Among them was 
Mr. < >'< kmnell's son, who had taken that pledge before the assem- 
bled i pi-' of Heath, his son-in-law, Mr. Fitsimon, who had 

sworn it to the freeholders, of the metropolitan county. Mr. ('a 
ulhvyer who. in virtue of the same pledge, obtained the 

unanimous suffrage of Droheda, and several others, Many rela- 

. Is ut Mi. O'Connell, obtained rewards adequate to 

Agents v. ho had been successful against Whig 

candidal- s. DOW retired into Whig places. The corporate towns 



THE FELON'S TRACK. 15 

Were made over to the Whigs, who held out the understanding 
that the sons, nephews and kindred of the leading and deserving 
citizens, would be provided for in the departments suited to their 
different capacities, and varying from the post of tide-waiter, to 
that of stipendary magistrate. Fierce was the struggle which fol- 
lowed, and sore the disappointment, and many a scalding tear of 
baffled ambition, watered the way to the aspirants ruin. 

This is not said for the purpose of disparaging the legitimate 
ambition of those who sought advancement in the altered circum- 
stances and sentiments of the time. But the effect of such a state 
of things, on the morality of the nation was incalculably injurious. 
The most solemn resolution was openly violated, and that by the 
very men who were foremost in recommending the national vow. 
Nor would its tendency be less fatal, assuming that Mr. O'Connell 
was correct in supposing that the experiment would be vain, and 
that its failure could not fail to supply new and more urgent rea- 
sons for the nation's independence. The compact, if even entered 
into with that view, would shake all faith in public men ; because 
it would only change the parties with whom a false obligation was 
contracted, leaving the obligation itself and its violation exactly 
where they were, 

Mr. O'Connell's support was doomed to be as fatal to the Whigs 
as his opposition. He unhappily assisted them during this period 
to carry one measure, against which they had recorded several 
solemn decisions in parliament, namely, the Tithe-bill, without an 
appropriation clause, which was a direct falsification of their own 
resolution, whereby they defeated Sir Robert Peel's short-lived 
administration, in 1835. And what was still more lamentable, he 
supported them in renewing in a modified form, the very coercion 
act for the introduction of which he designated them as " base, 
Moody and brutal." 

But other elements were secretly sapping the influences for 
which he made these sacrifices. The storm of disaffection, a long 
while gathering among open foes and disappointed retainers, was 
about to burst on the devoted heads of the Whigs. With then- 
accustomed fickleness and treachery of character they prepared 
to sacrifice, for the sake of power, the man whom they conciliated 
and deceived in the same hope of retaining it. If he foresaw that 
this would be the result of his experiment, never was argury more 
fully realized. Whatever may be the exact engagements of the 
Whigs, he was able to allege that not one was fulfilled, while he 
was in a position to prove that he more than kept his own : unless 
indeed, it could be assumed that for the few places obtained by 
his friends, and others, some of them honorable men, he sur- 
rendered the lofty and nearly impregnable position he occupied in 
1834, and which, in one sense at least, he never afterwards 
attained. 

From whatever cause, his influence over the Whigs, visibly de- 
clined, and his counsels no longer swayed their Irish policy. Once 



Ig \ B TH \<"lv. 

ilse expedient of yielding to their ene- 
; and allowing them to wield the poteer, while they . 

mtent with the ipvits of the country. Again the 
e l with M ,M tmeUbeeame bitter and personal, and again 
had he recourse to repeal 

;u the time of the first repeal association, to that of the pre- 
cursoi society, several other associations or societies were estab- 
tich hare left behind them scarcely the memory of their 
that of the second association alone except I Ye\ 
each had an ample treasury, and was composed of the same or 
nearly the same elements, and the same members. Th< 
many an honest man and many a fool, whose boast it isthat they 
contributed a pound to each of them, and had their respective 
cards. 

At last the late repeal association was formi I iburthwasre- 
ceived with sneers. Mi. ( >'< Jonnell's sincerity was questioned, and 
his motives canvassed with vindictive vigilance. The warmest 
nationalists looked on with doubt and coldni N > >t one man of 
rank, outside the members of the defunct society, joined its ranks. 
The routine of business, the receipt of money, the resolutions, the 
...idly identical with those of us predecessors. 
Th c government seemed neither to dread nor care tor it. It lin- 
unsustained by rhe country, and despised by its ensla- 
vers. The contributions of the members did not suffice to pay 
half the ordinary expenses of its machinery. Debts accumula- 
ted, and the revenue did not increase. While the body was thus 
M , ll;i , \| 1 1 1 , me 11 had recourse to an expedient at once sin- 
gular and decisive. It was to build Conciliation flalL The as- 
sociation was at the time seriously m debt, and lie proposed to 
multiply that debt four-fold, by engaging in this costly under- 
taking. 
While | who affected tobe in his confidence were ama- 

i ih:s step, the governmei in evidence ofpur- 

whicfa it was indispensable at once to check. The) 
that their opponents had formerly menanced and coerced in vain, 
a,,,! they determined to proscribe, lecordinriy the newly ap- 
pointed viceroy, Lord Bbrington, being waited on by the Dublin 
corporation with some address •>!' congratulation, delivered thema 
lectur • on the disloyalty of the I Jorn Exchange, and announced 
to employ in the service of the government, any 
one who ted that pestilent locality. The corporation re- 

tlllI1 , | i d to their council-rooms to record the 

threat. I'm from end toend of the land rose one shout of indig- 
n:ml derl lion, doubt, and hesitation, gave way to 

urn Involved in the insolent challenge. The ranks of the 
on were filled, and its treasury replenished ; and the 

I ow little was to !"• gained by a vulgar apr 

; mi, when it was add* SSI 1 to the Irish 






<a^<1 V Ccstr-L^j 



CHAPTER II. 

THOMAS DAVIS, HIS EARLY LABORS — THE NATION NEWSPA- 
PER — PROGRESS OF THE ASSOCIATION — CLONTARF MEETING 

THE STATE TRIALS THE YOUNG IRELAND PARTY 

SMITH O'BRIEN. FEDERALISM, THE BEQUEST ACT. 

Even before this great occasion, gifted spirits were insensibly 
moulding the character and destiny of the association. The hur- 
ried, burfirm, step of a pale student of Trinity College, might be 
daily seen pacing the unfrequented flag ways that led to the Corn 
Exchange. His penetrating glance, half shrouded by its own 
shyness, his face averted from the crowd, and his mind turned 
within, he would come, and sit, and hear, and suppress the emo- 
tions that swelled his proud young heart, as he caught glimpses 
of a bright future for his country. He had the richest store of 
practical knowledge, an imagination fruitful as a sunny clime : 
faith, hope and courage boundless as immortal love. That he 
could realize all things which came within the scope of his 
own fond yearnings, he had no doubt. But most of the men with 
whom he took his place, were stinted in acquirements, and not 
overgifted in intellect, and had no conception or ambition beyond 
admiring or applauding the behests of one predominant and con- 
trolling will. With the passionate aspirations of the young stu- 
dent, they felt no kindred sympathies. In their hands, political 
action, for whatever end, sank into a traffic or a parade. Even 
with such materials he determined to work out his country's re- 
demption, though already satisfied that before such a thing were 
possible, their habits, feelings, passions and hearts should be en- 
tirely changed. In order to do this, it was necessary he should 
stoop to the level of their conceptions and capacities. Thus for 
many weary months, with his energies, as it were, chained down 
to a cold stone, toiled and strove Thomas Davis. His influence 
first began to be felt as chairman of a sub-committee, on the reg- 
isters. This position afforded him an opportunity of entering 
into correspondence with the leading politicians of the party, and 
whenever he saw in any man's replies evidence of depth, capaci- 
ty, or earnestness, he at once entered into friendly and unreserved 
communication, exhorting him in language full of passionate en- 
treaty. In these his early efforts, John Dillon shared his labors, 
his ambition and his heart. 

About this time Mr. Stanton, proprietor of the Morning Regis- 
ter, committed to the two young graduates the writing of his 
journal. His preference was not so much owing to their charac- 
ter as politicians as it was to their pre-eminence in literary attain- 
ments. The press of Dublin had then sunk to the lowest level. 



THE FELON'S TRACK. 

N . . ... i d even Men too. It was divided 

.!.,. , lave ;" "":,;,". 

oth, 'i predominating factions oi the country. Hk 

mong foe »""»'."^- 

, But no s terdiditiaflmtofoehandsofthe 

than all Dublin . -■'■"'"V; 

*d brilliancy of itearticte. • 
ring they & andalous al 

,. 4e p 01 crupulous i'-'«'«;»j 

h it mvolved an affront to one pi then i 

Is, the then Irish Ch ■ ■« < 

nthfully, honorablj a 

B in order to mal ■ 

apbell, who was thereby to be qualified for th 

''ThrMll^HtKU-ira ■ :>^r;„lukl- 

tion and !.. I their las I for unholding the ap- 

poimment The To die spoil »*>*•»»* 

oenedtheothen l: "".'' *&. ' " . 

vituperation. Thi f party warfare was bandied in tne 

3fesWon,witho« << 

. Th „ to every body's astonishment, took up Ui 

i insult to that country, and with 

Sd hand vindicated 1 
,. ]1( . adventurore whom each faction 

^Soon'after tie and his friend ceased to writ ! but 

menl that a journal devoted to 
, , id sustained with ei bdity, would 

metropolis, and 
counftr's civilization and 

ambiti isiedthems. «* 

Morgan. Chai ran Dufl litorof the Belfast Vm 

.,;,„,'„ to the spirit of the enterpru ,|l ' v ''"' 

ramble in the park, during which foe terms and foe pnnc* 

a per, and the spirit in.which it shoul 

ibUcation 6f the NaUon was dimmed 
written a hbel in the Vin- 

" r 

I the 

i a wider field. 
Thefirstnumb journal app -">» 

n. I , C ed under auspices calculatea 

tbfoty.the ground ; 
: mtellectual n wurce. rt 
.,. , onderwh 

I 

I, and a prophecy of a 



THE FELON'S TRACK. 19 

different fate from what she hoped for. The aims, the logic, the 
very language of factious diplomacy were eschewed. It seemed 
as if a light had stream* d down from Heaven, fresh from God, to 

give the people hope, comfort, and assurance. The genius of 
Davis seized the opportunity as though he were his deputed mes- 
senger in the great work of regeneration. For the first time men 
awoke to the consciousness of what they were or might be. Har- 
nessed to the triumphant car of one gigantic intellect, they had 
forgotten the dignity of their own nature, and were astonished to 
find how transcendant its resources, and sufficient its strength. 
The publication of the Nation was really an epoch which marked 
a v onderful change, and from that day forth self-reliance and 
self-respect began to take the place of grateful but stultified obe- 
dience and blind trust. 

The change became more marked as the publication proceeded, 
in speech, article, song, and essay, the spell of Davis's extraordi- 
nary genius and embracing love was felt. Historic memories, for- 
gotten stories, fragments of tradition, the crumleich on the moun- 
tain, and the fossil in the bog, supplied him substance and spirit 
wherewith to mould and animate nationality. Native art, valor, 
virtue, and glory, seemed to grow under his pen. All that had a 
tendency to elevate and enoble, he rescued from the past to infuse 
into the future. His songs, so soft and tender, and yet so redo- 
lent of manliness and hope, inspired the ambition to compose a 
minstrelsy as wild and vigorous as themselves. They were 
read and learned and sung with an avidity and pride theretofore 
unknown. 

The monster meetings were long a design of Thomas Davis, 
John Dillon, and the present writer. One great object with them 
was to train the country people to military movements and a mar- 
tial tread. This object it would be unsafe to announce, and it 
was to be effected through other agencies than drill. The people 
should necessarily come to such rendezvous in baronial, parochial, 
or town processions, and under the guidance of local leaders. Or- 
der is a law of natnre ; and, without much trouble on the part of 
those leaders, it would establish itself. The present writer left 
Dublin early in the spring of 1843 to carry this design into effect. 
Sir Robert Peel, then Prime Minister of England, alluding to the 
fact in the House of Commons, said that the first Monster Meet- 
ing was purposely held on the anniversary of the very day, the 
22d of May, destined for the rising of 93. Sir Robert was wrong 
in his inference, though it was a natural and nearly justifiable 
one ; for at that Cashel meeting were offered unmistakable evi- 
dences of the tendency of the agitation. Upwards of £1100 were 
handed to Mr. O'Connell. Each parish came in procession headed 
by a band, and commanded by some local leader ; and those who 
took part in the public procession marched in excellent order for 
upwards of eight miles. A military and magisterial meeting had 
been previously held in the barracks of Cashel to consider whether 



o,, TB 

tin- people Bhould n* I ' of the 

But though the committee were fully b this consultation, 

they decided unanimously that the meeting should go oil The 
,. >lutions, and adopted 

.egislatui 
this effect : u You have robbed us of our parliament by fraud and 

■ u or ." And finally M , I >'< tonnel 

at the dinner that evening, alluding to an armed strife. "Give 
ripperary for half a <l • ... T di im] w ish, enunciati 
its familiar to that great ruler of men, elicited a chi 
shout, a wild burst of enthusi; >ng and loud as almost to 

suggest tin- idea that it would be seconded by naked steel and a 
deadly blow. One would think it had a significant mi aning, and 
yet there was no wrathful ban. N pronounced that 

ble anathema against shedding a single drop of blood, which af- 
l . b, tme the canon of peaceful men. Nay, if memory be 

not trery treacherous, amidst that roar was loudly distinguishable 
i of him who on an after day yet to be Bp >ken ofj cursed 

: s altar those wh i wished mulated 

rations; and in the endeavour had forfeited their Uvea \ 
gerel ballad h . written for tfo m by Thomas Davis. 

to the air of the •• gallant Tij>]>"rarv." over which himself am 

; indulged in many a hearty laugh. ( I 

runs as follow 

1 rulv, the m 

iher left, right, L< 

I 

B • knows how to march 

'i the way 

" 

li i s her proof and a justification <>f what has 

ted in reference to of the projectors i 

, j.. Possibly if I be said that tins is an admis- 
of the truth o ed bj Mr. I W \ 

tst the N ition and its writers, namely, that they bavin 
i tich he knew nothing, had committed him to breach- 

the law,of which he w tly not guilty but not 

tit, but which by a perversion ofjudmnent wen □ prooi 

iim at the celebrated State Trials. !t is quite true that 
i the intention which b rehe- 

Ihn they never once concealed them. In the 
l i < fcmnell was committed with them 
- • them utterance ; hut they did so be 
■ It hound to act in accordance with the n solution of 
the procc edings of the ( lashel 
IM , , • ful and significant meetings that 



THE FELONS TRACK. 21 

followed, they always submitted to him and had his entire sanction 
for every act done at and every line written for these meetings. In 
fact, if he were in any way mistaken as to them, they were still 
more grievously deceived as to him. All their acts and speeches 
were in the direction of their intentions; all his acts and speeches 
were in the same direction, and went further. In truth they believ- 
ed that he fully concurred in the sentiments which they cared not 
to conceal, but which he had the cunning or caution not to avow. 
One justification of this belief has been already given ; another 
and a more pregnant one was the Mallow defiance which the 
greatest poet and the greatest sculptor of our time and nation have 
immortalised. In reference to proofs not published, however con- 
clusive, this history shall be silent. 

Succeeding events shall be briefly glanced at only. Some of 
them have already attained a place in history ; and the scope of 
my narrative only embraces the facts, incidents, and tendencies 
which led to an armed crisis and governed its explosion. Meet- 
ing followed meeting in rapid succession, and each was marked 
by some signal manifestation of a healthier, holier, and more re- 
solute national purpose. Numbers, calmness, order, obedience, 
bespoke an advanced discipline, and prefigured future victory. 
The crowds that attended the Hall of the Association no longer 
consisted of idle brawlers ; they were listening, thoughtful me- 
chanics, conscious of the toil and danger that lay before them, 
and braced for the encounter. Dignitaries of the church, and the 
ablest men among the seeond order of the clergy appeared on 
the platform, and added sanctity and dignity to the proceedings. 
Members of Corporations through the country, and private gen- 
tlemen of rank brought to the imposing confederacy the weight of 
their office, rank, and name. ' The existing government in a sple- 
netic attempt to crush it, had dismissed certain magistrates for 
having their names enrolled on its books. This new aggression 
gave a fresh impetus to its progress. Men who had previously 
looked on it with doubt or fear, now embraced it as the only 
safeguard for the remaining liberties of the island. The parli- 
amentary committee which had been instituted by Mr. O'Brien, 
had exhausted every source of information within the reach of 
industry in developing the resources and capacities of the coun- 
try. The committee of the Association counted within its mem- 
bers one hundred lawyers, who preferred the fortunes of Ireland 
to professional or political advancement. Many of these and 
others who were not of the party, brought to the popular tribune 
rare endowments, the most generous passions, and the noblest 
eloquence. Poetry, fresh, vigorous, and full of heart, shed her 
harmonising and ennobling influence upon the whole ; and im- 
parted to patriotism the last pre-rcquisite of success. Amidst this 
grand movement stood Mr. O'Connell, erect, alone, its centre and 
its heart. He was not its guide, but its god, until he slept within 
a prison, and came forth less than man. 



1 :' 

Dm : l* o ev< lined d< particular no* 

the on upon which Mr. OConnell's supremai . 

* hit advice audioly condemned. Th ant, 

of Preach contribution! and French sympathy, oi 

1 in, since so celebrated was to be the bearer; 

and secondly, his mce of contributions from America mi- 

»us institution' 1 of sla rery, I 
1 the first with indigni 
republic tempt, as" smell- 

blood.'' 
Th le w\ o a ated fro i the only I s in 

ihc world who were willi;i_ r to espouse it I lis wisdom was qu 
honed and condemr* I bim thai hi should 

not intermeddle with fop itutions or with the politic 

dilections of individuate. Enough for Ireland, he was tola) to 
and thai Frenchmen and Am o battle in 

ber cause, and it ill became hi urn their ■ ilh iu- 

dignity and a sneer. The argument foiled, bis hatred of 
and republicanism I all other considi 

1 have axed upon th< an epot li in this history, 

marking a distinct phase in the character of the repeal association. 

The lings oi that extraordinary inquest are familiar to most 

men. It is not my intention to refer to them, except as a sen 

pivot upon which public 

mi!' nerd there was untold wealth in the c oci- 

ation. Th ublic purpose in 

Threats, hoi and violent, had been uttered. I 
had been made which could only be violated in shame and 
th. V. challenge had !>• from which it would be b a s e ■ 

> skrink. The world Lerandawe. Bach 

ive acl was more and i each resolution 

bolder. When the meeting al < lontarf was projected, the heart oi 
the nation he.it quick and h< tiv. Yel no man led ; 

noc 1. Th I b peri- 

bus future. Still the hazard figured created no alarm: the 

directions of a sub-committo ting tin military 

processions towards the f meeting was hut th lion 

of tl i hope that lay at every h< art 

White the bustle of pre] » at the 

tli, '/.\ with wild excitei imation 

i the wall • 'i\\ iren • dusk forbid I 

the proposed demonstration. For that proclamation tl - no 

h .' g illegal 

ft would not entitle the chief for it' it 

were proved to be consl . be wo 

the laws of his country. [1 aplya warning utterly in 

m hi in any trial >w. En this stal 

tin 1 ity oi th<' gr< atesl magnitude devolved <»n the 

ition, or its committee. They were hastily summoned or 



THE FELON'S TRACK. 23 

came together spontaneously. Alarm, surprise, disappointment, 
Chagrin, swayed their hurried consultation. The derision was 
weak, and it was fatal. It was only carried by a small majority, 

but in that majority was the great spirit of the confederacy. Nev- 
er after did lie stand on equal terms with his adversary. He was 
driven before him amidst broken hopes, and broken promises — his 
challenge, a boast unfulfilled, his prestige withered. 

What the issue might have been if the decision were different, 
it would be rash to conjecture. It might have been carnage ; it 
might have been a triumph. The historian has nothing to do 
with conjecture. But in this case was involved a mighty ques- 
tion, palpable, self-created and conclusive. The wisest fore- 
thought may fail to arrive at a sound conclusion as to the result 
of holding the meeting. The risk existed, no doubt, that some 
ill-disposed or hired villains, or even rash enthusiasts may provoke 
the troops, and thus afford a pretext for carnage. But opposed to 
that were the dictates of prudence, honor and fear on the part of 
those in command of the army ; and it seemed a more probable 
result that either the meeting would be allowed to proceed, or it 
would be illegally dispersed in the usual way by reading the riot 
act. Even if the weight of conjecture were the other way, the 
consequences should be risked rather than falsify the national 
pledge. To recede was cowardice ; not the vulgar cowardice ari- 
sing from personal weakness, but the moral cowardice which 
shrinks from an imperious obligation, because it is perilous. The 
meeting should be held ; every possible precaution should be 
taken to prevent an armed conflict. If power, drunk with its own 
advantage, risked an outrage, the people should be taught to 
yield ; but only to yield with the purpose of entering a court of 
law. as prosecutors and avengers. Even if worse consequences 
ensued after every effort to prevent them had been exhausted, the 
issue should be left to God. Recriminations, painfully petty in 
their nature followed. The Government were charged with a 
premeditated design to commit wide and indiscriminate slaughter, 
and the weakness in which were shrouded deep national shame 
and guilt, was made matter of indecent boast. The government 
aware of the unexpected advantage followed up the blow. Mr. 
O'Connel took shelter in the sacredness of the Hall, which, he im- 
agined, he had guarded against the encroachments of arbitrary 
power, and thither they followed him. Having abandoned a po- 
sition where he could act on the offensive, he was forced to con- 
tend against the agressive attacks of government, flushed with its 
first success. 

The trial that followed already occupies a large space in histo- 
ry. Its effects were immediate and disastrous. The personel of 
the accused assumed the nation's place. Exhortations full of in- 
tense eloquence were addressed to the people from which the 
question of the country's deliverance was entirely excluded. 
Technicalities of law absorbed the attention which was due to 



!\ ills: FELON'S TRJM K 

; .. \ demurier, a motion in abatement, or in arrest of 

i in nt, was canvassed with b 
ill'- provinces than by even the distinguished bar, which were ar- 
rayed on either side. Mr. CConneli's infallibility in law as 
•us solicitude, the pride, the ; ' id* 1 

throughout that long trial the question which would test it, w 
not mooted. The indictment was a buI which < 

eluded Buch argument T 

objections of form merely, and the final issue upon which * 
judgment wa 

main enquiry, whether or not the <•!. piracy v. 

tainable in point of constitutional law. During the ; of 

the trial, a fraud, a swindle, a petty theft, was perpetrated by the 
officers of government, which more than one man, high in oflB 
had a hand in suborning. This Tact had Bupreme influence on 
the decision of the House of Lords. But the plain truth is, 
the judgment was r< a an essential move m a great party 

game. 

Ireland triumphed. Her triumph was a just and a great 

Hm her exultation was on a fallacious She believed 

( »'< onnell's infallibility was re-established. No on 
haps dared to correct the error. In itself it seemed Little worthy <>f 
notice, yet it had its share of evil influence. First, it diverted men's 
minds from the one question; secondly, it lefi behind it the demo- 
ralizing effect inseparable from untruth. Wereit even what the 
public eagerness chose to shape it, its relative value, weighed 

tins) the triumph of courage and virtue, would mpuble. 

.Mi. ( )'< lonnel himself did w l Beem to Bhare in the nation's pride. 
Sis spirit was broken. He anticipated the glad wish me* 

tropolis, and walked h i the Penitentiary clouded and 

oomy. It was evident something within him had died. Bow- 

i. be went back the next day. and left the prison the second 

time, in the midst of public rejoi .• \i surpassed • a any oc- 

ion in his life. His addresses on that day, and subsequently 

while in town, were not Buch as they were wont to be; and he 

d retired to his wild mountain home, to invigorate a mind and 

body, borne down by gigantic labors, fearful responsibilitii 

alarms, and perhaps a cliillm of defeat and v. v His 

health was soon restored, but bis political vigor never. The . 
time his voice was heard from that retreat, it was to recommend a 

: and, for the first time. I, V8S Of> oly 0ppO8( d. 

Charles Dui ered bis letter, which recommended to fall back 

on Federalism a question in the mouths of many, but in the brain 
of none respectfullj and firmly i vnmn- :rat inft against Bucb a 
course. In man} circles, Mr. Duffy could not be I< oked at 

with more wonder, if ho Inul recommended t<> cut off" Mr. O'Con- 
nel's head. 
Hitherto, tfa ised retrospect has been almost exclusively 

the nan. If. It is lime now (0 



THE FELON ? S TRACK. 25 

revert to other actors in the scene. Even before the trial, elements 
of antagonism had begun to manifest themselves. With the party 
since called "Young Ireland," every consideration was subordinate 
to the great question of national deliverance. They labored inces- 
santly to elevate the morals, the literature, the taste, passions, ge- 
nius, intellect, and heart of the country, to the sublime eminence 
of a Tree destiny. Far the foremost man in urging and encourag- 
ing this glorious endeavor, was Thomas Davis. From sources the 
most extraordinary and the least known, there welled forth abun- 
dant and seductive inspiration. He struck living lire from inert 
way-side stones. To him the meanest rill, the rugged mountain, 
the barren waste, the rudest fragment of barbaric history, spoke 
the language of elevation, harmony, and hope. The circle, of 
which he wps the beloved centre. ,vas composed of men equally 
sincere, resolute and hopeful; there was not one of them undistin- 
guished. Some of them had won the first literary distinction. The 
character of each was remarkable for some distinctive and bold fea- 
ture of originality. I of course ; exclude myself from this descrip- 
tion. I know not to what circumstance I owe the happiness of 
their trust and friendship. My habits, my education, my former 
political connexions, disqualified me for such association. Since 
first I took my place among them, seven or eight years have now 
rolled by. They have been years of severest trial, years of suffer- 
ing and sorrow, years of passion, and prejudice, and calumny, years 
of rude and bitter conflict, years of suspicion and acrimony, and 
finally of defeat and shame; still, in that eventful course of time, 
to me at least, there has occurred no moment wherein I would ex- 
change the faintest memory of our mutual trust, unreserved enjoy- 
ment and glad hope, for the hoarse approval of an unthinking 
w T orld. There was no subject we did not discuss together ; revolu- 
tion, literature, religion, history, the arts, the sciences — every topic, 
and never yet was there spoken among us one reproachful word, 
never felt one distrustful sentiment. Our confidence in one another 
was precisely that of each in himself; our love of one another 
deeper than brotherly. When we met, which was at least weekly, 
and felt alone, shut in from the rude intrusion of the world, how 
we used to people the future with beauty, and happiness, and love. 
Little did we dream that those for whom we toiled, and thought, 
and wove such visions of glory would shun, and scorn, and curse 
us. But had that bitter cup, which afterwards we were forced to 
empty to the dregs, been then presented to its, there was not one of 
us who would not have drunk it to the last drop; drunk it wil- 
lingly and cheerfully, without further hope or purpose, than our own 
deep conviction that we owed the sacrifice to truth. 

Those who took immediate part in the proceedings of our circle 
before the State trials, were Thomas Davis, John Dillon, Thomas 
McNevin, Michael Joseph Berry, Charles Dully, David Cangley, 
John O'Hagan, Dennis F. McCarthy, Denny Lane, Richard Dai- 
ton Williams, with one or two others whose names I cannot men- 



gg l in: FELON B TRACK. 

To this list was afi Thomas Francis Meaj 

man, John Blitchel, Thomas Devio Reilly, and 
1 do ii A i iveral distinguished 

men » ho lived in th< tswith whom we communicated, and 

from whom we received Bympathj and sustainment; and I omit 
others'who took a leading part, ini to the position they an 

now placed i«). 

Wi.li the above named, originated the idea of pub- 

lishing the "Library of Ireland." El was proposed, discussed, and 
determined on one evening, al the h< use of Thomas McNevin, while 
eome one Bat at the piano, playing the lovely Irish airs, of which 
the sofl Btrains of Da option to \\ illiam Blliot 

Hudson. The music was ae true to the Celtic genius, as the 1 
of Da\ is to its character and hopes ; and amidst the entrant 
ductivei ciation, was born the gen ttion 

of rescuing the ct nm.v" Literature from the darker- in which it 
had Long lain. The " Library of Ireland" was proposed as a begin- 
i diffident did its promoters feel, thai the} deemed it in- 
dispensible to < i the recognized genius of William Carleton, 

whose name and abilities they pledged to the public, 
ranee for the undertaking. Mir. Carleton promptly undertook his 
re of the task, and James Dully, the enterprising bookseller, as 
Burned all the risk and responsibility of the enterprise. 

John Miichcl. then known to few, and appreciated only by 
Thomas Davis, was by him associated with those who werewil- 
i v.- and difficult labor. He pledged him 
him, and selected his Bubject Most nobly was thai pi 
med : hut its fulfilment dawned on the fresh grave of him who 
made it I >ther men, and first in order, as well as < minent in abil- 
ity, waeTho Nevin who has afeo sunk into a too-earl} grave, 
more than realized the m uine hopes of an exultin • country. 
Death first interrupted this oew current of life, even in its da; 

parkling promise. Disunion haunted the petty jeal 
Little and narrow minds; famine, pestilence and defeat hi 

dead, exiled, immured in dungeons, ot 

,1 over t 1 th as fugitives; and how kir they 

I i capacity to fulfil their inspiring promise, can never be tested 

. . -. remain, d. and amid greaU r gl< om, and 

rer to utter deaths thej Btand out redeeming I : i the fu- 

1 have not mentioned the name of Mr. O'Brien, t iated 

W i: . this earl He joined the « in a time 

Nation hailed the accession with the 

joy. The c icy of his politics, the purity of bis in 

Litude of bis lift gave abundant 

i, .• .done that he wa deep!) sincere, bul thai his pur- 

p could only be changed by death, Bul to those who looked 

zpediencj of the hour, those who had cherished 

Ly, hi name and 



THE FELON'S TRACK. 27 

character became an augury of success : nor would they intrude 
for any consideration on the attitude of lofty dignitj he assumed. 
It has been already stated that elements of antagonism between 
Mr. O'Connell and the Young Ireland Party had at this time (the 
period of the State Trials) manifested themselves. It will he re- 
membered that this period embraced a space of nine months, from 
the date of Mr. OVonnell's being held to bail in September 1843, 
to that of his sentence the 30th of May, 1844. As the events of 
this or the previous year do not properly speaking range within 
the historical scope of my narrative, I have excluded chronological 
and historical order. My object has been to group together the 
great features of the confederacy without other reference than that 
of pointing out their moral influence, operating through a long- 
space of time. Thus I have referred to the Parliamentary Com- 
mittee instituted by Mr. O'Brien among incidents which belong le- 
an anterior period, because the vigour of these incidents, which 
left moral seeds in their track, continued to coexist and blend with 
the powerful agencies of that Committee. As I now approach the 
period when the differences with Mr. O'Connell, which hitherto 
developed themselves in the distinctive characteristics of the re- 
spective opinions of both parties rather than in any direct collision, 
became tangible, it is necessary to observe strict historical and 
chronological accuracy. 

Before proceeding to details of succeeding events, a brief recapi- 
tulation of important facts, with the dates of their occurrence, 
becomes necessary. A few others, not heretofore alluded to, must 
needs be added. 

The date of the imprisonment is the 30th of May, 1844 : that of 
the release the 6th of September in the same year. 

In the intermediate period the amount received in the repeal 
treasury during four weeks was, £12, 379, 14, 9. 

About the close of August was passed the charitable bequest 
act, against the indignant remonstrances of the priesthood and 
Catholic population of Ireland. This Bill was obnoxious in all its 
provisions, but the enactment which was received with most scorn 
was the clause that annulled a Catholic charitable bequest, unless 
it had been duly made six months at least before the decease of the 
testator. The prohibition w T as attributed to an insulting assump- 
tion that the Catholic clergymen abused their influence over dying 
penitents, for sacerdotal or religious, if not for personal aggrandize- 
ment, and the impeachment was repelled with bitter execrations. 
Others objected to the Bill on grounds involving more alarming 
considerations. They regarded it as the first infringement on the 
liberty of the Catholic Church — the first criminal attempt to fetter 
her free action and sow dissent among her prelates and priests. 
The repeal Association offered, from the beginning, its undivided^ 
unqualified, and indeed vehement opposition. But amidst the 
storm and rage of the nation, it became the law, and three Romaa 



g TH vs TRACK, 

Catholic prelates of the highest reputation undertook the duty of 
lion. 

One part) ll jetted the Bill still more deeply, 

but in a different point of view. At the head of these was Thomas 
yarded it as an instrument of dissensi n and ureak- 
ne— . ciiniiiiiuly adapted to that end by Sir Robert Peel, and lit* 
deplored the diversion of the public mind and energj from the 
grand national object Mr. O'Brien, to a certain i 
this feeling, but never obtruded the opinion or ventured to check 
the association, while Mr. Davis confined his efforts to passionate 
warnings addressed through the columns of the " Nation.'" 

This question is introduced here because it was import 
fatal in its consequence , \ ill more important one taken in the 
same Light must interrupt its discussion for a moment : Mr. 
Connell's federal Letter already referred to. The leading senti- 
ments of that letter are subjoined. It ; October, 
L844. 

After Btatingwhat simple repeal and what federalism respectively 
meant, he proceeded to contrast their value, 

••The simple Repeal* of the opinion that the reconstrc 

Irish Parliament should have precisely the same power and autho- 
rity v. Inch the former Irish Parliam 

■■ The i 'ederalists, on the contrary, appear to me to require i 
for the people of Ireland than the simple repealers do ; for I 
the local parliament in Ireland having full and perfect authority, 
the Federalists require that there Bhould be, for Questions of imperial 

in. colonial, naval and military, and of foreign alliance and 

policy, a Congressional or Federal Parliament, in which Ireland 
should have her fair share and proportion of representatives and 
power." 

•• It is but just and it bt to confess thai in this i 
ralists would give Ireland more weight and importance in imperial 
concerns than she could acquire by means of the plan of simple 

• « * * * « « 

•• \^n- my own pari. I will own that Bincc I havi to contem- 

plate the specific differences such as they are. between simp 
; .11. | do at present feel a preference for 

tending more to the Utility of Ireland and \j\r main- 
mi with England than the plan o( Bimple 

lip. 

innot but perceive thai th sen upon 

itation for repeal since the period ^( our 
I imprisonment 11 

! :-. ( )'< Sonnell's most elaborate Letter, 
i ence for I a, and the 



THE FELON'S TRACK. 29 

reason upon which the preference is founded. The remainder 
consists for the most part of a sort, of logical equation, balancing 

the component elements of both plans, from which is deduced 
the above conclusion. 

Charles Duffy's answer, dated October the ISth, was triumphant 
and conclusive, at least in Mr. O'Connell's own mind, for he did 

not afterwards repeat the same sentiments. But a blow had been 
given the Association from which it never recovered. The News- 
paper Press, taken under three distinct heads, first the blind and 
heedless echoers of Mr. O'Connell's doctrines, secondly the Whig 
organs in Ireland, and thirdly the papers in the English interest, 
gave wayHo unrestrained exultation. The wisdom, the prudence, 
the holiness of the ' ; great Liberator," were extolled as unmatched 
in the annals of statesmanship. A few whose self-interest con- 
strained their subserviency, shrugged wisely and said nothing, while 
several provincial journals stoutly maintained the undoubted and 
enduring supremacy of the great national aim over every weak 
expedient. 

Whatever hopes may be entertained by Mr. O'Connell, his sug- 
gestions met with no sustainment and no response, save the empty 
echoes of an adulating Press. Among the great party to whom he 
appealed, not one voice was heard to suggest a practical step in 
the direction intimated. The project fell, if indeed it were ever 
seriously entertained, leaving no memory and no regret. The 
first place Mr. O'Connell afterwards appeared in a public capacity, 
was at the Limerick banquet, given on the 20th of November. His 
speech on that occasion contained scarcely a reference to Federal- 
ism, and both his sentiments and those of the other speakers, in- 
cluding John, Archbishop of Tuam, as well as the Toasts and 
Mottoes, were distinguished for loftiness of tone, unflinching pur- 
pose, and highest enthusiasm. But other elements were at work 
furtively sapping that purpose and dimming that enthusiasm. 

Prominent among these was the spirit of religious dissension 
already under discussion, to which it is now time to recur. 

At and after the period when the Roman Catholic prelates ac- 
cepted the functions of administering a law insulting and obnoxious 
to the Catholics generally, much angry controversy prevailed. A 
report was rife that the Government not alone succeeded in delu- 
ding the Irish Bishops, but had accredited a minister plenipoten- 
tiary, whose mission was to conciliate the Court of Rome to a 
"Concordat" with England. A rescript said to be received by the 
most reverend doctor Crolly, the primate, was adduced to prove 
not alone the existence of the intrigue, but its partial success. The 
rescript contained an admonition to restrain the intemperate vio- 
lence of political priests, and an advice to confine themselves more 
generally to the sacred functions of their holy office. The English 
press magnified the advice into a command, and exulted over the 
failure of the repeal movement, whose extinction they augured 
from the withdrawal of the Catholic priesthood. 



: LOM I rRAt K. 

.Mr. i 'i darmed at the import of a comm fatal. 

pronounced ihr rescript "vncanonical.' 1 This led to greater di>- 

i criminations, The prelates who condemned 

:lu* bequest act, denounced those who accepted the task oi adrain- 

of the body thus * ri( 

"The r< ring to one pai ed I a meeting of the 

prelates, which was prom unced by th<- ministeri 
unanimous approval of the bishops 3 accej I 

aissioriers,) "did not meet th< approval of all the Bishops, 

neither could il any one of the Episcopal Commissioners 

ant notion that in accepting I not 

oppose and wishes of many of his Episcopal brethren. 

i olution « I -i\ of the protesting 

Bishops absent, and a moment . allowed to pass after ii was 

ded when k was d enounced in the eanner, by two 

of the Bishops present They solemnly declai 
sembled prelates that, in the event of any pr< epting the 

odious office, they would never willingly hold an aunfcation 

with hkn in hi.^ capacity as Commission er. w 

But, while disunion r< al the council hoard of the Catholic 

Hierarchy, the Government plied th< ir task of seducing, dividing 
and misrepresenting bishops, priests, people and nation. Out of 
all tin- elemei lunion, distraction and disaster, over which 

in turn, ' the British newspapers, with wonderful 

d, predicted and boasted of the complete overthrow of the 
1 party. It was amid-: these oircumstanc "'.111 and 

evil augury the year L844, a year within which range the 1 
startli] ordinary and trj ing events^of [reutnd'sjrecent hi 

' 1 1 

i conclude this chapter, I must revert to a fact which, 
although unimportant in relation to the view of the question u 

to be remembered in connection with future 

1, The date 1 cannot fix, as it was confined to the private 

of the Lssociation Committee, and no record of it remain-. 

te Trials, as v ell as I can 
remember, .Mr. O'Connell proposed the dissolution of the associa- 
tion, with iblishiag a uew body, from which Bhould be 
Led all tfa il" attributes and accidents of the old. The 
I ►'Brien and all those understood to 
I the Youn : Ireland Parti . rhey pro 

h a com n an I I 1 ( : 1 1 . and .Mr. 

•well at led I 1 tl ment remonstrant 

» Doctor Oi 1 1 19, 



"CHAPTER III. 

Further embarrassment caused by the Rescript. Dif- 

ilENCES BETWEEN Mr. O'CoNNELL AND THE PRIMATE. 

Financial Reforms in the Committee of the Associa- 
tion, AND CONSEQUENT DISSENSION. '82 CLUB. TlIE COL- 
LEGES Bill — differences and calumnies consequent 
upon it. Quarrel with Mr. Davis. The great Levee 
at the Rotunda. Decline of the Agitation. Closing 
Labors and Death of Thomas Davis. 

Thus wrote Thomas Davis at the opening- of the new year. 

" Hitherto our dangers have been few and transient. The pro- 
duct of mistake or enthusiasm, they were remedied by explanation 
and kindliness. There are dangers threatened now, and against 
them we shall try the same prompt and frank policy which never 
failed us yet. Already the English press are quarrelling for the 
spoils of the routed repealers. They are almost unanimous in 
describing the people as disgusted, the leaders as exhausted, and 
the policy of the ministers as rapidly levelling the defences of the 
once great party. 

" We do not quail We remember that whenever the rent has 
fallen, the same press cried out the people are sick of the agitation. 
Whenever righteous discussion took place in our councils, they 
exulted over our " fatal divisions," and at the beginning of each 
new blunder of the cabinet, they sang victory. 

K If the Irish be a hot or capricious race, who plunge into a new 
policy because it is new, and abandon their dearest interests and 
most solemn vows because their success needs time, then indeed 
Repeal was hopeless and was always so. If the leaders have not 
sagacity enough to embrace the business of an empire and pierce 
through time, unwearied industry, pure hands and resolute spirits, 
then to repeal is hopeless until a new race of chiefs appears." 

Almost cotemporaneously with this article, the Catholic primate 
contradicted Mr. O'Connell's assertion respecting the rescript, and 
laid rescript and contradiction before the public. " I was surprised 
and sorry," he writes, " to find that you had ventured to assert that 
a letter sent to me some time past from the propaganda was not a 
canonical document." He adds that he laid the document before 
the assembled prelates, and appends the resolution in which they 
acknowledged its authenticity and approval of its counsel.* 

* Moved by the Right Reverend Doctor Brown of Elphin. 
Seconded by the Right Reverend Doctor McNally ol'Clogher. 
Resolved — That the most reverend Doctor Crolly be requested to reply to the letter 



. 11 at once i I his entire acquiescence and 

LrHion. He bowed reverentially to ilution of the 

retracted the hasty opinion, and apologized for his error, 
i. In- said, .11 lii- great anxietj of mind, caused by 

i owal "I tin- Moi tronicle that the Whigs had a 

ne. 
15m the prelates wen m unanimous in their con 

of tin- rescript which they promised unanimously to obey. Wnli 
i - dution among bis papers, the Axchbish p of Tuara proceed- 
ed directly from the E B ipeal banqu 
I slivered a er in languac i 
: . Lent m chara o any he bad ever*uttered. Some 
I ■ - .ii :!. , i. wherein he eulogized the heroism of the 
i of ! limerick who cut their long hair to supply the defenders 
of the city with strings for their bows, excited the wildest enthu- 
i and most rapturous applause Doctor Cantwell, in ili< 4 
letter already referred I his construction, which he Bays was 
that of the majority. 

cardinal only evidentlj \ iolenl and intemp 

I, in either priest or bishop, whether they address their 
in their temples, or mix with their fellow-countrymen in 
banquets or public meetings. i inferred, and I think we were 
d in the inference, that conduct and language at all Limes 
►ming our Bacred character, and not our presence on 
>ns, \. ere the object of this salutary caution." 

His eon ned more clearly and forcibly by 

Thomas Davis. -It" (the rescript} "announces the und< 
truth that the main duty of a christian priest is to care for the 
souls of his flock, and both l>\ . md example to teach mild- 

| ietj and peace, ltd □ u c i a ( latholic clerg) man 

for aiding the repeal movement in all w : 1 1 i 1 1 ur a minister of 

in the rescript i itation as a b) -nan. or 

repeal as a demand, censured] bul Borne reported viol peech 

is disapproved." 

• 

Dating 

1 

t.. i!i.' 

:■ ' ! 

•• 

a diticai 



THE FELON'S TRACK. 33 

The coincidence seems a Btrange one, that, in the same paper, 
which thus disposes of the rescript, the same paper wherein appear 
the letters of Doctor ('roily. Doctor Cailtweil, and Mr. ( )'(\>nnell, 
the same paper in which is published the official denial of a Con- 
cordat, with the Pope, under the viceregal seal, are also published 
the proceedings of the Repeal Association, which consisted, to a 
great extent, of a violent attack on the exploded Concordat. At 
the meeting held on the 13th of January, it was denounced espe- 
cially by two of Mr. O'Connell's friends, Mr. O'Neil Daunt and 
Mr. John Eteilly, in terms the most vehement and indignant. Mr. 
Daunt used these words. "On that day fortnight he had pro- 
claimed from the chair of the Association, that if a rescript should 
emanate from Rome denouncing the national movement, the 
Catholics of Ireland would treat it as so much waste paper." 
This statement was made on the 13th, Doctor Crolly's letter is 
dated on the 11th, Mr. O'Connell's on the 14th, and Lord Heytes- 
bury's denial of the Concordat, on the 15th of January. Cotempo- 
raneously with all these was also puhlished an address of his 
clergy to the Archbishop of Dublin, deprecating in the strongest 
language certain calumnies against him, which they attribute to 
priests and people protestant and catholic. 

From these proceedings one inference is inevitable, namely, that 
they who have so strongly inculcated obedience to the Holy See, 
and denounced as an infidel any Catholic who refused blind obe- 
dience to its decisions, in reference to secular education, were not 
then troubled with the same sensitiveness or scrupulousness of 
conscience in regard to the authority of the Roman Pontiff. But 
of that one word hereafter. I here reproduce the historical facts 
connected with these letters, for another object. Although the ex- 
citement about the threatened Concordat was aliayed, and the 
invectives against the Archbishop of Dublin abated in intemper- 
ance, the bitterness of feeling which swept over the country like 
an avenging scourge, left behind it germs of discord and weakness. 

Publicly or privately the Seceders did not interfere. At the meet- 
ing of the Association already alluded to, Mr. O'Brien made a most 
■noble speech, inculcating education, self-reliance, organization and 
progress, without stooping to refer to the perplexed question, which 
■filled his audience with angry passions, and supplied the other 
speakers with intemperate enthusiasm. 

The whole endeavors of the Seceders were at this time devoted 
«to the organization of clnbs or reading rooms, on an educational 
basis. Connected with this object was the augmentation of the 
repeal revenue, which was anticipated from the extended action 
of these political and social schools. The funds were greatly di- 
minished, and the weekly collections had fallen to an average of 
■about £150. It became necessary, as much as possible, to curtail 
the expenses, and a reduction of a very serious amount was effected 
during Mr. O'Connell's absence at Derrvnane. The effort was 
-continued after his arrival in town, which led to differences of 



ry '11 n: FELON'S TRACK 

opinion wnli him, in committee Sinecure situations, created by 
him were abolished, and inquiries were instituted which grave nun 
annoyance. He particular!} resented and resisted the re- 
moval from one of those offices of Doctoi Nagle. Doctor JNagle 

ip pointed to !»«• "curatoi of manuscripts,' 1 the ostensible dutj 
of which was to superintend the reports then dail) issuing from 
the press, and written for the most pan by the Seceders for the 
purpose of preventing the publication of anything illegal or dan- 
gerous. In effect, he was nominally, literary, legal and moral cen- 
sor Dm the unanimous and loud indignation oi the essayists 
rendered his task a lighl one. He was content to accept the salary 
• uu l [eave those gentlemen the guardians ol their own Bafety, then 
character ami literary fame. Doctor Nagle continued to a 
librarian and wrrlh delivered to the secretary certain lists ol con- 
tributions that had been previously furnished him by that gentle- 
man. Hi- salan and certain fees given to other - patriots, came 
ander tne uce of a sub committee consisting, as well as 

remember, of the preseul member lor Dublin, a Mr, OMeara, and 
some one whose name I now forget Theii report adjudged the 
office useless and recommended its immediate abolition. A motion 

xcordingly made in committee for Doctor N - i - d - 
Mr O'Connellwas in the chair. All hie Bonswere present, i 
whom 1 think, moved an amendment to the effect that he be con- 
tinned a. his then Balary. A division took place, when the majority 
against the amendment was considerably over two toone. Mr, 
( n lonnell expressed himself deeply mortified at this result, kno 
,,„.,. amendment to the same effect was then proposed and i 
tived D , a majority numerically, somewhat less, when Sir ( olemaii 
O'Louehlin moved, and John Loyd Fitzgerald seconded, an emend- 
menl to the effect that he.be continued as clerk ol the library at 
half his salary, that is £50 a year. The result would have been 
Lhe same as before, but thai many of the maionty had withdrawn, 
UQder the impression that Lhe question was disposed of: the num- 
{ti , { ,„,,,„. amendment was twenty^wo, and the number against 
only twenty-three, Mr. O'Oonnell assumed the ngh to eive two 
votes one as member, which made the numbers equal, and a cast, 
,„., V ote as chairman, h was then proposed and earned that 
ev |n chairman should in future have two votes, and Sir < olemans 
amendment was allowed to pass in the affirmative. Doctor Nagle 
continued to fill bis office until his appointment to a more lucrative 

under the W big Gov. rnment. 
The Bighty-two d»U which was projected m prison was finally 

aized in January, L845. The differences which |«an»fested 
themselve* ... (Conciliation Hall. impercepUbly extended to thjs 
bodv The original members constituted the committee and were 

•pointed. The others bad to submit to a baUot. Some few 

Ejected, al which Mr. O'Connell's friends took umbrage, and 

lhe n aspiranu were sure to attribute uV decision to their 

I Thusithapptuedthatmostobjection- 



THE FELON'S TRACK. £g 

able candidates could not be resisted without incurring the impu- 
tation of opposing and thwarting the M saviour of his country." 

Mr. O'Connell himself, although he warmly approved of the club 
in the commencement, soon ceased to feel an interest in its pro- 
ceedings. For the first year, its action was confined to some routine 
dinners, which attracted a very fashionable attendance, and fur- 
nished an occasion for some brilliant speaking. Yet the fame and 
respectability of such a body were seductions which few of the 
Leading men in the confederacy could resist. The Eighty-two 
club became a standard toast at public dinners, and its members 
were received as distinguished guests or visitors wherever they ap- 
peared. Without having yet performed any distinct service, or 
realised the promise involved in its establishment, the club became 
a very important and imposing body. 

Mr. O'Connell was its president, and Mr. O'Brien, Mr. Grattan, 
Sir Coleman O'Loughlin, and others, vice-presidents. The first 
committee was composed of the Members of Parliament, Mayors 
of cities, and men eminent in the different professions and literary 
pursuits. Complaints of inattention were made against some of 
its members, and at the election for officers after the expiration of 
the first year, others were substituted for the inattentive and ineffi- 
cient. The change for the most part was made by unanimous 
consent ; but when a ballot was called for, other names were sub- 
stituted for those on the house list, recommended by the former 
committee, and the contest resulted in the rejection of Richard 
Barrett and one or two others. This was taken as an affront to 
Mr. O'Connell, though personally he neither took part in, nor was 
present at, the meeting. Whether it w 7 as owing to Mr. O'Connell's 
aversion to the green and gold uniform, to which he sometimes 
expressed his dislike, or his objection to the rejection of his soi- 
disant friends, or to his consciousness that the club was not sub- 
servient to his control, he took very little interest in its progress, 
and frequently spoke of it in terms of derision. 

But that which produced the first sensible and vital difference 
between Mr. O'Connell and the Seceders, was the Colleges Bill. 
Education had long been a subject of anxious solicitude with Mr. 
Davis, and he was in continual communication with Mr. Wyse, 
its great parliamentary champion. He had repeatedly urged upon 
him the indispensable necessity of the principle of mixed educa- 
tion, as the basis of any collegiate system for Ireland. That basis 
w T as recognized in the system of national education which was 
accepted and approved of by the whole Catholic Hierarchy, with 
one exception, and most warmly sanctioned by the Catholic priest- 
hood and laity. Extreme bigots of the Protestant school opposed 
and denounced it as unscriptural and Godless, and one extreme 
bigot of the Catholic school echoed the objurgation. It was not to 
be supposed that a principle thus sanctioned, tried, and efficient as 
applicable to the children of the poor, would be objected to when 
applied to those who were higher in station and older in years. 



THE FED W8 TRACK. 

\\ hen, therefore, the bill was introduced and its principal proi isiossB 
announced, it was received with the ulmoel delight, and even tri- 
umph. Mr. O'Connell proclaimed in a meeting of the commit! 
hia emphatic approval oithe principle of the Bill. 

is soon as its details were published, i( was submitted to the 
i men la ry committee, ami, during iu discussion there, be ex- 
pressed for the first time some doubts as i" the practicability of a 
mixed system of education. Mr. O'Brien, Mr. Davis, and others, 
expostulated, and deprecated in unmislakeable terms the fatality of 
ig the association t<> a principle so sectarian, narrow and 
illiberal. He said be would take time to consider, and would 
n ntime consult with Doctor McHale. He was reminded thai 
Doctor McHale could not approve <>i the system without gross 
inconsistency, and requested to take the opinion of all the other 
Bishops as well. How far be was governed by this advice it 
unimportant ami impossible to tell. Hut the l>i-ln>|>- met in 
solemn synod and published tin- result <»f their deliberations in the 
following memorial : 

"That memorialists are disposed to co-operate on lair and rea- 
sonable terms with her majesty's government and the legislature, 
in establishing a system for the further extension of academical 
education in Ireland. 

'hat a fair proportion of the professors and other office bearers 
in the new colleges should be members of the Roman Catholic 
church, whose moral conduct shall have been properly certified by 
testimonials of character, Bigned by their respective prelates. And 
that all the office bearers in those colleges should be appointed by 
a board <>t trustees, <>i which the Roman Catholic prelates of the 
provinces in which any of those colleges BhaU he erected BhaU be 
members. 

• 'That the Roman Catholic pupils could not attend the lectures 
on history, logic, metaphysics, moral philosophy, geology, or ana- 
tomy, wiiihoui exposing their faith or morals to imminent danger 
unless a Roman Catholic professor will be appointed for each of 
those chairs. 

"That if any president, vice president, professor, or office bearer, 
in any of the new colleges Bhall be convicted before the board of 
trustees of attempting to undermine the faith or injure the morals 
of any student in those institutions, he shall be immediate!] re- 
moved from his office by the Bame Board.* 1 

It will be observed that the principle of mixed education is not 
here directl) approved or condemned. But approval i- an infer- 
ence, as cleat and emphatic as words could express. The memo- 
rial prays foi distinct and specific alterations] in the details of the 
Bill. k demands thai certain branchi ular education Bhould 

!.-• taught i" ih<- < latholic Btudents bj « latholk prof< bsots approved 
<»i bj the prelates, and it insists upon other guaranty scare 



THE FELON'S TRACK. 37 

the Catholic youth from the danger of all and every species of 
interference with the tends of their faith. 

How far the demands of the Bishops were just or extravagant, is 
not a lit subject of inquiry here. Bui the fact of making the de- 
mands stamps the principle of the bill with their incontrovertible 
approval. The argument which denies it involves an accusation 
against those most reverend and right reverend divines, of evasion, 
treachery and untruth. Any defence which implies that they 
avoided the direct condemnation of the principle because they knew 
their memorial would be disregarded, which would enable them to 
interdict the whole bill, principle and details, on the ground of the 
immorality of the latter, involves an implication that moral and 
christian turpitude is synonimous with Catholic zeal. Such an 
implication, inevitable from the premises assumed by the opponents 
of the mixed system, would be foulest calumny. The Catholic 
prelates were eminently sincere; and had they been warmly 
seconded they might have obtained such ameliorations in the de- 
tails of the system as would be satisfactory to every rational, liberal 
and honest man. But the old jealousy, division and calumny, 
which had grown out of the bequests act, obtruded themselves on 
every attempt at calm consideration, and scattered the elements 
indispensable to successful moral combination. The principle and 
details of the academic project became confused and confounded, 
and w hile some clamorously opposed, others unthinkingly supported 
the entire. Thus the minister was enabled to balance the voice of 
public opinion as he found it arrayed for and against his measure, 
and unde r pretence of indifference to despise both parties. For a 
long while the action of the Association was paralyzed. There 
were deeper questions at issue there than even those which ap- 
peared on the face of the Bill. The educational party insisted that 
any measure which did not embrace the University was scanty 
and illiberal. They claimed its honors, advantages and emolu- 
ments for all the Youth of Ireland alike ; and they sought to 
make the academic subordinate to and parcel of the collegiate 
system. The Dublin University and Trinity College are separate 
and distinct foundations and establishments. They proposed that 
Maynooth and Trinity College should be both sufficiently endowed 
for ail purposes of ecclesiastical education, without any interference, 
direct or indirect, frcm each other or the Government, while the 
University should be open alike to all who had obtained distinction 
in the provincial colleges. Any measure of narrower scope would, 
they contended, leave dullness and bigotry where it found them. 

Mr. O'Connell, on the other hand, insisted on the inviolability of 
Dublin College as a Protestant institution, inaccessible to Catholics, 
except through the slough of perverted and perjured faith. He 
would then have new eollcges purely Catholic and entirely under 
the control of the Catholic Bishops, but endowed by the state, and 
chartered to confer literary degrees. He would extend the same 
right to the members of other religious persuasions. It was an- 



: » s Tin: it.ulvs TEACH 

arered thai these positions and bis arguments addressed to t he 

identic question were irreconcilable and incompatible. Catholi 
trere already admissable to Dublin College, and entitled to certain 

:ll( | a rote. He either intended thai they should be then. 
forth excluded or he did not If not, then the argument against 
mixed education would hold for nothing: if he did, then he at- 
tempted what was impracticable, or, if not impracticable, prep 
teroufl and absurd. It it not conceivable that ( latbolic young men, 
of laudable ambition, would be deterred from entering the lists with 
their Protestant ooteroporaries where most honor was won b) Bupe- 
eminence, or thai they would be swayed bj ■ warning that a 
college course would be attended with risk to their faith and 
morals, w ben they remembered that for the past century, w bile the 
i was infinitely more imminent, no such warning had been ever 
,d from council, Bynod, or conference. It is a strange fact in 
history of these troubled Limes that no voice of denunciation 
linst Dublin College could be heard in the polemical dio > al- 
though it was well known that its literary honors stamped prekV 
iniiiai\ degradation on the Catholic aspirant, and were used at 
once to mock bis political condition and pervert bis faith, no 
s was heard although one at least of the prelates had obtained 
degrees in the University, while the bishop and priests of an enure 
diocese, in conclave assembled, solemnly resolved that they would 
use sacraments to any ( latholic parent who sent his son to one of 
the ( fodless colleges. Bui supposing it were practicable to exclude 
Soman Catholics from the University, and thai the system ol 
elusive education among the middle and upper classes were applied 
in all its rigor, when were Proteetanl and Catholic to men ) It it 
wen- dangerous to faith and morals thai they should discu 
iher the properties of an angle or the altitude of a star, it could 
hardlj be safe to have them decide together a principle of law or 
determine the vain.- or limits of a political franchise. All this was 
urged on Mr. (yConneU, and sometimes apparently with 
for he more than once consented to forego the discussion ol the 
question in the Hall ; and he would have strictly adhered to that 
engagement hail In- not been goaded by the intemperate counsels 

of others. 

In the desultory history of this question, two facts have been 

Led, requiring distincl proof. They are ; 

; ii,.,i Mi. ( )'( lonnell was favorable to the principle ol mixed 
education in the commencement 

\,,d secondly, that the Seeeders those who were afterwards so 
glibl) denounced as infidels lor their support of the Godless Bill, 
- much opposed to that hill as be was. 

How Mr. CyConnell expressed himself when the hill was first 
announced has been alreadj Mated. It is ai once conceded that 
the writer's memorj ol a conversation, in its nature almost prn 
were he even above all suspicion, would nol be a safe authority. 
1,, this instance there ie no need la ral) on it the statement is 



THE FELON'S TRACK. 3<) 

more than sustained by Air. CVConnelPa recorded words. From a 
nuiuber of occasions, equally available, I select one, because of its 
solemnity and importance. 

In a prolonged ami most earnest debate in the House of Com- 
mon-, on motion for going into Committee on tbe Hill, June 2, 
Mr. O'Connell. after eulogizing tbe Maynooth grant, says : 

" Take one step more, and consider whether this bill may not 
be made to accord with the feelings of the Catholic ecclesiastics of 
Ireland. I ought not to detain you : I am not speaking here in 
any spirit of hostility. 1 should be most happy to give any assist- 
ance in my humble power to make this bill work well. I have 
tin 1 most anxious wish to have this bill work well, because I am 
desirous of seeing education promoted in Ireland, but even educa- 
tion may be misapplied power. I admit that at one time I thought 
the plan of a mixed education proper, and I still think that a sys- 
tem of mixed education in literature and science would be proper, 
but with regard to religious education." 

And further on : " Again I repeat I am most anxious for the 
success of this bill, but I fairly tell you it cannot succeed without 
the Catholic bishops. ***** 

"There may have been harsh expressions in the public papers, 
but depend upon it great anxiety exists in Ireland to have such a 



The second proposition would be abundantly sustained by a 
single sentence in Thomas Davis's commentary on the speech 
from which I extract the above. 

" On our part we had feared O'Connell conceded almost too far." 

But the testimony of Mr. O'Connell himself will be considered 
more conclusive. 

Speaking in the Association on the 6th of July, he said : 

" I may remark for the present that on this subject a ques- 
tion of difference has arisen among ourselves. Some of the mem- 
bers of the Association are for what is called mixed education, and 
others of us are against it, but that difference of opinion ought not 
to create any division among us, for neither the one or the other 
of us are gratified by the bill as it stands." 

Again, in the course of the same speech, he said : " We (Mr. 
O'Brien and himself.) did our best to avert such a calamity. We 
called upon the Government not to persist in working out this bill 
in all its details of blackness and horror." 

He concluded by lauding Lord John Russell for his valuable 
assistance in the attempt to amend the bill, and finally said that, 



Id THE FELON B TRACK 

having failed iq this ait. -nipt, be 'flung the lull to the ministry, to 
deal w nil u as they pleased." 

Mr. O'Brien continued in London, and proposed amendments to 
the bill in ever) stage of its pro [t was during that time be 

was assailed b) Mi. Roebuck with ail the little malevolence of bis 
envenomed nature. He failed in every attempt to remed) the de- 
fect* of the bill, which passed its last Btage in the Commons on 
the 10th day of July. On the I7ii. of the same month, Mr. < >'- 
I 'onnell, Bpeaking in the Association, said : 

•In the resolution I am about submitting to the Association, we 
have not inserted one word about mixed education. This is a 
question upon which there exists some difference of opinion. I 
have my opinions upon the Bubject, I am the decided enemy uf 
mixed education. * * » • « 

■•I full) respect the contrary convictions entertained by otl 
and I am the more ready to proclaim thai respect because at pres- 
ent all possibility of discussion on the matter is out of the question." 

It will be observed thai Mr. O'Gonnell's opinions underwent a 
Berious and important change during the time over which the» 
speeches range. That change was produced gradually, and not 
without infinite trouble on the part of his son, whose inveterate 
zeal knew no bounds. In bis Gather's presence, and more particu- 
larly so in In- absence, he denounced the bill and held up anj 
Catholic who <\.nr<\ to support it to public indignation. !!•• called 
on the people of Waterford to demand Mr. vYyse's resignation, not 
because be was an unfaithful representative, but because he was 
unchristian. Lf be had not determined to divide the Associa- 
tion on this question, he did all a man could do who had bo deter- 
mined. 

I sbal] only trouble tl».> reader with two quotations more. They 
refer to the question immediately under discussion, namely, that 
the Seceders were as much opposed to the obnoxious clauses of the 
bill as those with whom the) differed. But while they are unequi- 
vocal and conclusive on thai branch of the subject, tbej go still 
further and attest the sincere forbearance with which they I 

aduct winch appeared to them in the utmost de- 
narrowand intolerant Discussion among the Bishops, natu- 
rally, produced discussion among the chiefs of the Association, and 
that the Lssociauon should confine its objections to 
those provisions of.the lull upon which there could be no disagree- 
The first petition of the Lssociation was confided to me. 
I endeavored to embody in the petition what appeared to me the 
true i comprehensive system of education. Some ; 

on the I Committee objected to certain phrases as susceptible of an 
the principle of mixed education. Mr. < > - 
Cooneil joined in the objection and led in reducing th< 



THE FELON'S TRACK. 41 

tion to a single paragraph, deprecatory of the Tenth Clan.se of the 
Bill. I refused to nave any more to do with the petition, and it 

was dropped. After the lapse of a fortnight, Mr. Maurice O'Connell 
proposed another, simply praying that the 10th clause, which vested 
disappointment of the professors of the college in the Government, 
should be rejected. 

Upon the occasion of this petition being submitted to the 'Asso- 
ciation, (9th June, 1S45), Mr. J. O'Connell delivered one of his 
usual invectives against the bill and its abettors. Mr. O'Brien 
deprecated the ill feeling and discord such language was calculated 
to provoke. In the course of his observations, he said : 

"In seconding the motion of my hon. friend, the member for 
Kilkenny, for the adoption of this petition, it is not my intention 
to follow into any of the polemical qnestions which, in the course 
of his protracted speech, he has raised in this Association. I am 
obliged, however, to say in candor that in some of the views he 
has put forward I cannot agree. * * We have 

given a general concurrence in this Hall to the recommendation 
that has emanated from the Catholic Hierarchy. 
I am not disposed to assist the Government in making those semi- 
naries, which ought to be seats of learning, filthy sties of corruption. 
It is because I believe that such would become their character if 
this tenth clause were to remain a legislative enactment that I 
shall oppose it to the utmost." 

The reverend John Kenyon, then little known, rose to protest 
against the course pursued by Mr. J. O'Connell, which he charac- 
terized as not only uncatholic but unchristian. Mr. J. O'Connell, 
in the blandest tones, deprecated any discussion tending to divi- 
sion, which induced Mr. Kenyon to sit down. Having spread 
with dexterous industry the most baleful elements of discord, he 
begged they should not be disturbed. 

I will be pardoned for transcribing here a few observations of 
my own on. that occasion. 

"I am exceedingly anxious, having the misfortune to differ most 
widely from my honorable friend the member for Kilkenny on the 
subject of academical education, to express my cordial concurrence 
with him in reference to the subject of this petition. I shall not 
say one word about our difference of opinion. I shall enter into 
no disturbing or dividing discussion, and the more so because any 
difference we may express could not fail to impair the efficiency of 
our action where we are thoroughly agreed. I condemn this 
clause as strongly as the hon. member can. Nay, I will go a step 
further, and say that if there be no provision made by the bill for 
religious instruction and moral culture, Protestant and Catholic 
ought to unite in struggling for its rejection. No matter how 
splendid may be the accommodations provided by these academies 



■ Tin: FKLON B TRACT 

no matter how richly they may be endowed- if there be do pro 
vision made for the religious education of the pupils, I trust tney 
w ill remain silent, unattended Hall-." 

Numerous other proofs to the same facta are accessible, but these 
are abundantly conclusive. The historj of ihe Btruggle itself, the 
slow and evidently reluctant change in Mr. O'ConnePs opinions, 
ami ili.- intolerant spirit with which the enemies of the lull pursued 
'!"• name and character of those who, although they approved of 
ili«' mixed system, were as inveterately inimical to the dangerous 
provisions of the bill as they were themselves, sufficiently attest 
that faction swayed the troubled movement of clerical and popular 
passion alike The vulgar and virulent anathemas of Borne 
tongues and pens not only swept unsparingly over the unhappy 
crowd, but aimed at the lofty Bphera of Episcopal authority, even 
where most identical with purity and piety. A malignant charity 
extended to the errors of Ihe primate that palliation which per* 
verted reason otherwise refused to admit. Too lofty to be accused 
of treachery, he was not too sacred to be pronounced mad. 

The Committee of tin' Association alone nearfj the 

influence of the fierce spirit of the times. There the voice ofrea* 
son lor a while held sway. The forbearance and respect f 
dieting opinions which preserved its dignity were, with the one 
exception, extended to the proceedings in the Hall, where even 

the most Unscrupulous were checked hy a petition which reCOg- 

ni/.ed and welcomed the principle of united education, but Btrongly 

deprecated the objectionable provisions of the "Godless Bill." To 
this petition was affixed the signature of almost every educated lay 
Catholic in Dublin. The number of Catholic barristers alone 
whose names are found among those signatures amounts 
At the same time, a remonstrance addressed personally t<> Mr. (>'- 
Oonnell was signed by the leading Catholics of the Association. 
! act was to preclude all discussion on the subject of the die 
puted principle in Conciliation Hall. It was Bigned for the most 

part by men who theretofore had taken but little part iiuhe dispute. 
But ;iLj:im-l all these precautions passion bj degrees prevailed, and 

when If r. OConneU was reminded by Mr. Barry, of Cork, that in 
reply to the remonstrance he had pledged himself to abstinence 
from the irritating discussion, bis apology was, that he thought the 
document in question and all proceedings connected with it were 
strictly private; as if the privacy of a solemn pledge dispensed 
with its obligation. 

\n episode in this strife deserves specific notice. \t a meeting 
ot the Association, held nw the 26th of May. the question was inci- 
dentallj introduced. Mr. Michael George Conway, a man ol con- 
siderable literary and oratorical powers, but dot distinguished for 
an} very rigid piety, introduced the subject evidently with tin 1 
vie* of exciting Mr. O'Connell's impulsive character against the 
restraint under which In- sinister friends were continually 



THE FELON'S TRACK. 43 

hinting he was held. The speech breathed me most fervent spirit 
of Catholic piety, seasoned with bitter invectives against what Mr. 
Conway described as a baffled faction in the Assocation. Mr. O'- 
Connell took off his cap, waved it repeatedly over his head, and 
cheered vociferously. Few, if any, of the Catholic gentlemen who 
were opposed to Mr. O'Connell, were present Mr. Davis rose, and 
commenced by saying, "My Catholic friend, my very Catholic 
friend." The allusion was intelligible to almost every man in the 
assembly, but the practised and dexterous advocate saw and seized 
the advantage it presented for exciting the active prejudices of the 
audience. He started up and exclaimed, " I hope it is no crime 
to be a Catholic." The whole meeting burst into a tumultuous 
shout which bespoke a triumph rather than admiration. Mr. O'- 
Connell did triumph, but not in the sense understood by his ap- 
plauders. He apprehended the effect of the honest, frank and 
manly exposure which, if he were not rudely interrupted, would be 
made by Mr. Davis, and he was too keen to allow an opportunity, 
so tempting to his object, to pass, though he should violate all the 
observances of good feeling and decorum. Mr. Davis, on the other 
hand, felt the blow to be a stunning one. He was shocked at the 
same time by Mr. O'Connell's disregard not alone of friendship, but 
of common courtesy, and by the intemperate exultation of the 
audience. To his loving nature, both seemed, especially in such a 
place, utterly unintelligicle and grossly unkind. He was the last 
living man to oiler insult to the belief or even the prejudice of a 
Catholic, and he felt that this was thoroughly known to Mr. O'Con- 
nell, and that it ought to be known to his audience. The disap- 
pointment and the rudeness were too much for his suscepttble 
heart, and he so far yielded to wounded feelings as to shed tears. 
Mr. O'Connell, whether gratified by success or influenced by his 
better impulse, caught him by the hand and exclaimed, "Davis, I 
love you." Although the first struggle closed amidst cheers, there 
were carried away from that meeting in the breasts of many, seeds 
of bitterness and hate which ripened in after times and under 
gloomier auspices. I dwell on it as important, although a casual 
incident, frequent and almost inevitable in political excitement. 
There were two parties from whose memory the scene never passed. 
These were the blind followers of Mr. O'Connell, to whom it seemed 
blackest guilt to question his supremacy or infallibility, on the one 
hand, and on the other, all who sympathized with genuine and 
lofty emotions, and regarded the attack on Mr. Davis as wanton, 
brutal and contemptible. The miserable little faction that existed 
on the spoils of the Association magnified the difference and fanned 
the discontent. That Young Ireland had received its death-blow 
passed into a watchword among them. 

An event of mighty augury and most trifling results which dis- 
tinguished the year 1845, must not be passed unmentioned. This 
was the celebrated levee, held in the round room of the Rotunda, 
on the 30th of May, the anniversary of the imprisonment. It was 



1 I THE FELON 8 TRACK 

referred to a Bub-committee, oo which Mr. Davis and Sir Coleman 
O'Loughlin were principals, Lo devise the most appropriate celebra- 
tion for lhal important day. They determined on a public I. 
to which were Bummoned whatever there was of respectability, 
authority, genius and worth in the island, which recognized the 
wisdom, justice and holiness of the struggle for Nationhood. All 
the corporations, every delegation which derived public authority 
from the popular voice, besides the citizens of the unincorporated 
towns, answered the summons with alacrity. Thai daywitn 

ne the mosl extraordinary, imposing and formidable of t lie 
kind in modern annals. The round room was thronged to e 
but preconcerted arrangements bad provided for the convenience of 
its favored visitors, while the public streets, abandoned to chance, 
presented an immovable mass of human beings, swaying to and fro, 
but governed by a single and omnipotent impulse, which Bt< 
them to the pressure and broil as if they fell themselves in presence 
"i a speedy deliverance and free destiny. 

The preparations engaged the vigilant activity of a large con*- 
mittee for two entire days and nights. Yet these preparations bore 
an infinite disproportion Lo the display of wealth, of mind, of energy, 
oi thought and national pomp, which ushered in the glorious 
morning. Those who scoffed at the project when it was firsl ;m- 
nounced, came to mock the scene but went away admiring. The 
spirit of the hour infused itself into the public heart, which appeared 
to throb l)in to one impulse and one aim : at all events no one \\ as. 
no one cot 1 1,1 be, found obdurate enough to question tlie signific 
or importance of the proceeding. 

Mr. O'Connell's fellow prisoners shared bis state and the homage 
which was paid to him. i>ut in the outward crowd no cne 
ci;iied him personally from the minutest detail of the da\ 'a pn • ed- 
ipgs, or admitted for a moment thai any other human being par- 
took oi' its glory, or directed its end. High above the multitude 
they Baw bim receive the nation's homage, which seemed but the 
expression of the liberty he bad already achieved. How he felt 
the influence of the scene there is qo record to tell. His demeanor 
while exercising the prerogatu as of bis position w as Buch as became 

a man conscious that I ccupied a throne loftier than ever yet 

was decked by a kingly crown. Bui when his official functions 
lischarged, be addressed the impassioned throng in langu _■ 
too tame for the mosl ordinary occasion. 

The greal acl of the day was the adoption of the following pi 

It bad been prepared and approved by the Committee of the IssO- 

c ration, and every word was canvassed with the mosl scrupulous 
i to the trying circumstances which the Committee found 
themselves in presence of. Thevirulenl hostility of the Tory Gov- 
ernment had been baffled, and its utmost strength discomfitted. 
it was understood at the time thai a W hig Government was in the 
advenl of power, and the greal object of the pledge was to record 
the solemn conviction oi the Nation that they were faithless and 



THE FEEON'S TRACK. 15 

treacherous as the others were unscrupulous and vindictive, and 
that to the corrupting influence of the one and the unmasked hos^ 
lility of the other the same resistance should be shown. The pledgi 
was preceded by this resolution : 

u Resolved, That in commemorating this first anniversary of the 
30th of .May. we deem it. our duty to record a solemn pledge that 
corruption shall not seduce, nor deceit cajole, nor intimidation deter 
us from seeking to obtain for Ireland the blessings of self-government 
through a national legislature, and we recommend that the follow- 
ing pledge be taken :'* 

" We, the undersigned, being convinced that good government 
and wise legislation can be permanently secured to the Irish people 
only through the instrumentality of an Irish Legislature, do hereby 
pledge ourselves to our country that we will never desist from seek- 
ing tlie repeal of the Union with England by all peaceable, moral 
and constitutional means, until a parliament be restored to Ireland." 

Dated this 30th day of May, 1845. 

This pledge was adopted formally in the pillar room of the 
Rotunda, in presence of most of the Irish Mayors, the leading dele- 
gates of the country, the members of the '82 club, and a vast con- 
course of gentlemen both from the metropolis and the provinces. 
It was proposed by William Smith O'Brien, seconded by Henry 
Grattan, and put to the meeting from the chair by the eldest son of 
Daniel : Connell. The cheer that hailed its adoption was a shout 
not of approval, but defiance. But alas ! many voices mingled in 
the chorus which have since been attuned to the meanest whine 
of mendicancy. That they vilely belied their solemn promise were 
of little moment. Nay, more, it is bootless to consider whether 
they were more false-tongued and false-hearted in that great 
pageant, or on the recent occasion of their kneeling in their own 
shame to pledge a faith they do not feel, in expectation of some 
royal notice or royal favor. What is mournful in both instances 
is this, that a show of wealth, a practice of successful chicanery 
called good sense, or public trust won by intrigue and falsehood, 
should so blind the world to the maids rotten and vulgar heart as 
to raise them to a position where their acts should be regarded as 
indicative of the feeling, or important to the destiny of a nation. 

With the 30th of May, passed off the excitement of which it was 
the cause and scene. Those who arranged the grand pageant of 
that day, and invested it with attributes, suggestive, imposing and 
useful, as ever decked a public spectacle, would have wrought it 
out into a sterner purpose : but the heart upon which they counted; 
had, even then, died. Mr. O'Connell's speech, too painfully, bespoke 
his utter inability to guide the nation in any higher effort. The 
energy that should have seized the occasion to confirm the people 
in their strong purpose, and elevate their hopes to the level of the 
great stake at issue, exhausted itself in balancing the routine de- 



46 THE FELON'S TRACK. 

tails of cold and empty statistics. The curtain fell, and nothing 
remained but grotesque figures, withered garlands, broken panels 
ami desolate dust, which mingled confusedly behind the scene, 
over the dark, deserted stage. The Journals of course preserved, 
for a few days, rery glittering reminiscences of the srt'iw. With 
one accord, they pronounced it surpassing in interest and impor- 
tance. Great results were anticipated in the newspaper world; 
and many imagined they had fulfilled the Last obligations they 
owed their country. But with the men, who had fondly hoped to 
date therefrom a new era, and begin a nobler task, the 30th of 
May, was of dark, despairing augury. They dearly saw, that 
from that hour forth, there remained hut tin- alternative of aban- 
doning their cherished hopes, or attempting tore tlise them without 
the aid. perhaps in opposition to the wishes, <»t' Mr. ( )'( lonnell. It 
was a gloomy and sad conviction, hut it was no longer to be 
blinked. 

Meantime, .Mr. ( )'( Jonnell returned t<» the Hall, and repeated to a 
jaded audience, week after week, the same stale List of grievances. 
From ;my other man the repetition would he intolerable. But tin' 
public ear had become attuned to his ac o which, whatever 

the sense of his Language, men listened .-is to a messenger of ! lea- 
venly tidings. .Mr. Duffy strongly urged upon his fellow labourers, 
the improbability of success, and advised a distinct chang 
policy. In this he was overborne by their united opinion, and the 
Nation continued to promulgate the same hold unwavering course. 
By degrees the (eeling of bitterness entertained l>y the anti-educa- 
tion section of the pilots, found utterance, and the paper was, 
almost openly, denounced as an infidel publication. At first 
indeed, the charge was shrouded in mysterious insinuations; hut 
it soon gained strength and audacity, and received the unblushing 
sanction of at least .me prelate, The answer of the Nation was 
confined to one indignant line. Proof was demanded and was 
not offered ; hut its very absence only deepened the malignity of 
ill.- slanderers. Even, in the midst <>f tins storm, the muse ot 

Thomas Davis sang no discordant strain, nor did his pen t rata 1 
One angry word. On the contrary, he summoned his whole 

energies to the task at' harmonising the jarring elements around 
him. I lis inspiration rose t«> that unearthly height, whereon guid- 
ance becomes prophecy, (heat, strong and unselfish convictions, 

entertained holily and uttered sincerely, are assurances Of new 
Creations, pledges of the destiny to which they tend. In this 
spirit, spoke and sang, Thomas Davis, during a tune o\ bitterness 
and dissension. And his counsels had been successful, but alas! 
in that last effort, his fond, faithful, trusting heart, was broken. 

There was a perceptible lull in the agitation. The country 
gradually relapsed into a state of inactive and vague hope, which 
centred in the mental resources of Mr. O'ConneU. The difficul- 

| h|Ch the people should have a ppree ia ted and learned t<> over- 

come, they transfered, with easy and trusting mjjLifference, to the 



THE FELONS TRACK. 47 

energies of the "liberator," which they not only deemed boundless 
but immortal. From all educated and thoughtful men. however, 
hope in those energies had passed away. Davis seduously en- 
deavoured during the summer months of 1 8 U>, to gather these, and 

others of the same class from the conservative ranks, round some 
common object or endeavourout, side Mr. CVConnell's path, and 
not calculated to wake their prejudice or jealousies. The Art 
Union, the Archaeological Society, the Royal Irish Academy, the 
Library of Ireland, the Cork School of Design, the Mechanics' In- 
stitute, and every effort and institution, having for their aim, the 
encouragement of the Nation in arts, literature and greatness, en- 
gaged his vigilant and embracing care. Of each of these institu- 
tions he became the great attraction, the real centre and head. 
"While he successfully wrought, to give a national and steady di- 
rection to Irish intellect and enterprise — Hogan, in Italy, Maclise. 
in London, and others like them, who were bravely struggling and 
nobly emulating the highest efforts of the genius of other lands, 
were vindicated, encouraged and applauded by his pen. Among 
the sterner natures, who urged their way through the stormy ele- 
ments of agitation, his accents, though low and diffedent, com- 
manded the deepest attention and most lasting memory. While 
thus engaged, compassing by his "circling soul, 7 ' every sunward 
effort and immortal tendency of the country ; death came, sud- 
den and inexorable, and struck him down in his day of utmost 
might. His last work on earth was the brief dedication of the me- 
moir of Curran, and edition of his select speeches, which he had 
prepared, to his friend William Elliot Hudson. This he wrote 
during a pause of delirium, and soon afterwards passed to a 
brighter world. He died on the 16th of September, 1845, when yet 
but 31 years old. How sincere and deep was the public grief, no 
pen can ever tell. In the mourning procession that followed his 
hearse, there was no parade of woe, but every eye was wet and 
every tongue silent. If ever sorrow was too deep for utterance, it 
was that which settled above the early grave of Thomas Davis. 

During the summer, no effort of the Association rose above the 
hacknied level of the usual weekly meetings and the repetition of 
the same stale greivances, except a gathering of Tipperary at 
Thurles, which took place on the 23rd of September. This was 
the largest of the monster meetings : but although the crowd was 
enormous and the shouting loud, it seemed without purpose or heart. 
During the preparations for that meeting I had to encounter dif- 
ficulties of the most extraordinary kind. First, the meeting was 
opposed by certain influential clergymen ; and when they found 
themselves too feeble to resist, they transferred all their opposition 
to me. There is no petty cavil they had not recourse to, to thwart 
and discourage, and even when all had succeeded I was treated 
with personal discourtesy and annoyance at the public dinner. 
The seeds of strife afterwards destined to bear such deadly fruit, 
had already begun to manifest themselves, and petty calumnies 



|s THE FELCV 

insinuated in the name of religion and morality. Prom that 
• meeting the crowd retired quickly, and, almost ;is instantane- 
ously, its effect faded from the public heart. All that remained 
was soreness and distrust. 

Noevent worth ;i memory marked th< f 1845, or the first 

months oi 1846. The colleges bill had passed, without a single 
important amendment, and a Roman Catholic priest accepted the 
nomination of Governra 'in. as president of one of the institution?. 
Some of the prelates, too. were said to be favourable to the colleges, 
even as they were thru constituted, and the divisions supposed to 
imong them were imparting their acridity to the deepening 
distractions of the time, when an event occurred the advent oi 
the Whigs to office -which broke tip the great confederacy. On 
>' the hopes of the nation were staked. 





V 



CHAPTER IV. 

Imprisonment of O'Brien for contempt of the British 
Commons. Conduct of the Association. Deputation 
from the 82 Club. Mr. O'Connell returns to Ireland. 
Discussions in the Committee. 

Before proceeding to detail the circumstances which led to the 
celebrated secession, it is essential to dispose of an episode in the 
struggle, which, more than any other stamped, its impress on the 
acts and feelings of that unfortunate period ; 1 allude to the im- 
prisonment, by the House of Commons, of William Smith O'Brien. 
There is no act of his life upon which there has been so much 
acrimonious criticism ; none on account of which he has been 
subjected to so much intemperate misrepresentation. And yet, 
perhaps, his great career, fruitful in good actions, never furnished 
a purer or more unselfish example of sound judgment as well as 
intrepidity and devotion. The history of his incarceration ranges 
over a great portion of the time which has been already passed, 
and enters largely into the leading events, hereafter to be related. 
A clear understanding of the whole — of Mr. O'Brien's influencing 
motives and his tenacity of principle — would be impossible without 
a distinct recital of the circumstances out of which his purpose 
first grew, and which, to the end, controled his resolution. 

In the spring of 1845, the committee of the Association passed 
a vote, to the effect, that the Parliamentary representatives, who 
were members of that body, should withdraw from the British Par- 
liament. It was proposed by Mr. Davis and received Mr. O'Con- 
nell's entire approval. Though, at first sneered at, it had a stun- 
ning effect. The supercilious British Commons, who would have 
answered the just remonstrance of the Irish repealers with a jeer, 
shrank from the consequences of legislating for the country in the 
absence of the men, whose efforts, if present, they would not hesitate 
to scoff at. The disturbing influence of the resolution became at 
once perceptible, and the earliest means were taken to bring the 
question to an issue. Mr. Hume, a parsimonious economist, of 
niggard principle and grovelling sentiment, undertook the office of 
coercing the Irish. He gave notice of a motion for a call of the 
House. This man, a mean utilitarian, had been rejected by the 
country of his birth and the country of his adoption, and found 
refuge in an Irish constituency, who returned him without solicita- 
tion and without expense. He repaid them and the country by a 
vulgar jest, and now assumed the responsibility of their public 
prosecutor. 

The association heard his threat with calm indignation and 

4 



-,, THE FELON'd TRACK. 

resolved at once to defy him. The great importance of the posi- 
tion in which it was placed, suggested the necessity ofa deliberate 
consideration; first, of the constitutional questional stake, and 
b, C ondly, of the steps proper to vindicate itsown dignity and reso- 
lution. As ..11 all such 01 . a sub-committee was appointed 
t,, whom the question was referred. .Mr. O'Connell had to some 
extent formed an 01)1111011, favourable to the object of the Associa- 
tion. He stated that lie had considered the question in a two-fold 
point of view. 

Pirst, -Whether the controlling power of the English Hou 
Commons over its members, which admittedly it possessed befo 

the ad of union, was extended to ihe Irish portion of the meml- 

by that act, there being no express provision creating it /"' 

\nd secondly, - W nether even if the House possessed the po 
h was competent to enforce it, or in other words, whether the 
speakers warrant would receive Ireland r 

To report «.n these two questions, thus trained, the folio 
gentlemen were elected as a sub-committee : James O'Hea, Sir 
Coleman O'Loughlen, Robert Mullen, James O'Dowd and myself. 
Of that committee, each approached Ins task with that instinctive 
bias, Inseparable from ardent minds, excited by a darling hope. 
They read the precedents, the cases, the arguments and judgments 
applicable to their enquiry with the aid of such a hope, and still 
they came t<> the reluctant decision that the -round taken against 
the authority of the British Parliament was not maintainable. 
\\,ili regard to the first branch they were unanimous. With 
regard to the second, Sir Coleman O'Loghlen alone entertained 
some doubts. \s chairman of the committee, I drew up a bnei 
report, embodying our opinion. One reason alone we thought con- 
clusive, namely, that the formidable jurisdiction claimed by the 
House of Commons, was indispensable to the unimpeded fulfilment 
of us functions, as a co-ordinate branch of the supreme power and 
controlling authority of the state. In its very danger and < \tra- 
ragance consisted its supremacy] for it showed that it was only 
admitted from it- overruling and overmastering necessity. And 

as the Parliament was recognised m Ireland m all things else we 
thought n would he absurd to deny its functions indispensable to 

" ' vitality. . 1 , _ _ . . . , 

On handing in the report, I mentioned the doubts entertained 
by Sir Coleman O'Loughlen. Mr. O'Connell suggested that the 
report should 1) s deferred until he could consult Sir < joleman. rhe 
suggestion was agreed to. and timegiven for reconsideration. Mr. 
1 ,, lonnell himself examined the question, he said, with great at- 
tention. He was assisted hv Mr. Clements, in Ins research s, and 
at the end of the fortnight he came down to the committee with a 
report of his nun. distinctly and emphatically contradicting ours, 
upon both branches ofthecase. lie delivered it to the chairman, 
(Mr S O'Brien,) with exultation, as a great constitutional dweo- 
of unspeakable importance to the fibe ties ol Ireland. The- 



THE FELON'S TRACK. 51 

committee received it in the same spirit. I ventured to question 
the soundness of Iiis opinion, and maintain my own. It was con- 
sidered a daring thing todo in those times ; but the question seemed 

to me so clear that I could not abandon my views without treach- 
ery to my conviction. The discussion was very short, and ended 
in personality, wherein he insinuated something about unworthy 
motives. .No scene of my life made the same impression on me. 
I fell Keenly his reproaches, but still more keenly the impolicy and 
imprudence of the step into which the country was precipitated. I 
re. [nested that the question should he again postponed, and the 
opinion of some eminent man outside the association taken. I 
was overruled, and even laughed at— it was "doubting Mr. O'Con- 
nell."' Mr. O'Connell said, I'll test this question "meo periculo." 
The resolution passed amid cheers, and was recorded next day, 
mid the louder and more vehement cheers of the association. The 
country re-echoed the boast, and the House of Commons was, by 
a formal and solemn vote of the entire Nation, set at defiance. 
The conflict was pre-arranged, even to its minute details. Mr. 
O'Brien was to proceed to London, where disobedience would be 
more marked and decisive ; and Mr. John O'Connell, was to remain 
in Ireland, where he could take advantage of an additional obsta- 
cle to the exercise of its authority to the House. So the matter 
stood when Mr. Hume, through what motive it is not easy to see, 
neglected or abandoned his notice. The country regarded this as 
a confession of weakness by the House, and gloried in a new tri- 
umph achieved by the genius of Mr. O'Connell. He himself 
thought he had found a great and solid basis for future action, and 
hinted at the prospect of being able to raise upon it a parliamen- 
tary structure, having imprescriptible and indefeasable authority, 
and only requiring the sanction of the crown. 

A short time after the withdrawal of Mr. Hume's motion, the 
question was again raised in another form. The chairman of the 
Committee of Selection for Railways, addressed a circular, among 
others, to Messrs. S. O'Brien and John O'Connell, requiring their 
attendance at the selection of special Railway Committees. The 
correspondent of the Freeman's Journal, thus writes in forwarding 
their replies : 

u London. Monday, June 30. 

" The authority of the British Senate over Irish representative* is 
now fairly placed at issue. By my letter of yesterday evening, you were 
apprised of the determination of Smith O'Brien and John O'Connell, to 
refuse to comply with the summons of the parliamentary selection com- 
mittee. 

'•The course I suggested as that which it was probable would be 
adopted, has been since finally resolved upon, and in part carried into 
execution. John O'Connell, for the purpose of taking the chances of a 
judgment in the Irish court, will not forward his answer till he shall 
have reached Ireland. Smith O'Brien delivered his r,eply to the clerk 
of the House of Commons this day, at one o'clock- 



59 THi; FELON B TRACK. 

Here follows .Mr. ( t'Brien's letter : 

i-.i> and (A mi:k i Im . i; CLUB, PALL-MALL. 

■■ / 1 r30, 1845. 

"Sib — I had the honor of receiving on Saturday afternoon, a letter 
dated 28th .June, and signed ' Henry Greed,' to the following effect: — -I 
am directed by the committee of selection to inform yon that your name 

i-> on the li.st for which membera will be select id to Berve on the railway 
-. which will commence their sittings in the week beginning 
Monday, the I 1th .July, during which week it will be necessary for jou 
to ho in attendance, for tin; purpose of Serving, if requested, on a railway 
conmiitt. i 

•• I trust that the committee of Beleetion will not think that T am 
prompted by any feeling of disrespect towards them. or towards the 
House "1 Commons, when I inform them that it is my intention not to 
serve on any committees exoept BUCh as may be appointed with reference 
to the affairfl of Ireland 

••1 accepted a seat iii the House of Commons, in the hope of being 

thereby enabled to assist in improving the condition of the land of my 

birth. So long as I continued to believe that I could serve Ireland ef- 
fectually in the House of Commons, 1 shrank from none of the la 
which are connected with the varied functions of that assembly. During 
twelve years I attended parliament with an assiduity of which I might 
feel disposed to boast, if the time so consumed by the house and by my- 
self had been productive of results useful to my native country. 

" Kxperience and observation at length forced upon my mind the con- 
VlCtion thai the British Parliament is incompetent through want of 
kn 'wledge. if not. through want of inclination, to legislate wisely for Ire- 
land, and that our national interests can be protected and fostered only 
through the instrumentality of an Irish legislature. 

•• Since this conviction has established itself in my mind Iliave felt 
persuaded that the labors of the Irish members, though of little avail 
in the British Parliament, might, if applied in Ireland with prudence 
and energy, be effectual in obtaining for the Irish people their national 
rights. 

•I have reason to believe that in this opinion a very large majority of 
my constituents concur. To them alone I hold myself responsible for 
the performance of my parliamentary duty If they had disapproved of 
my continued absence from the House of Commons, I should have felt 
it my duty to have withdrawn from the representation of the county of 
Limerick : but I have the satisfaction of thinking that I not only consult 
the interests, but also comply with the wishes 01 my constituents in de- 

elining to engage in the struggles of English party, or to involve myself 

in the details of English legislation. 

•• While such have been the general impressions under which I have 

absented myself daring nearly two years from the House of Commons. 
1 yet do not feel myself at liberty to forego whatever power of resistance 
to the progress of pernicious legislation, my office of representative may 
confer upon me upon the present occasion, 1 have come to London for 
the purpose of endeavouring to induce the House of Commons, or rather 
the government, who sppear to command the opinion- ofa large majority 

of the house, to modify some of the [rish measures now before Parlia- 



THE FELON'S TRACK. 68 

ment in such a manner as to render them beneficial, instead of injurious, 
to Ireland. 

"Desiring that none but the representatives of the Irish nation should 
legislate for Ireland, we have no wish to intermeddle with the affairs of 
England, or Scotland, except in so far as they may be connected with 
the iuterest of Irelaud or with the general policy of the empire. 

"In obedience to this principle 1 have abstained from voting on Eng- 
lish and Scotch questions of a local nature and the same motive now 
induces me to decline attendance on committees on any private bills, 
except such as relate to Ireland. 

u I am prepared to abide with cheerfulness the personal consequences 
which may result from the course of conduct which I felt it my duty to 
adopt. 

'• I speak with great diffidence upon any question of a legal kind, but 
I am supported by very high professional authority, when I suggest to 
the committee that no power was delegated to the House of Commons by 
the act of Union, or by subsequent statutes, to compel to attendance 
Irish members on the deliberations of the British Parliament. Neither 
do I find that any authority has been given by statuary enactment to the 
house (except in the case of election petitions) to enforce the attendance 
of members upon committees. 

" I refrain, however, from arguing legal questions which may be raised 
before another tribunal in case it should become necessary and advisable 
to appeal from the decision of the House of Commons to the courts of 
judicature, and conclude by assuring the committee that I take the course 
which I propose to adopt, not from any desire to defy the just authority 
of the House of Commons, but in obedience to my sense of the duty 
which I owe to my constituents and my country. 

" I have the honor, to be your obedient servant. 
"WILLIAM S. O'BRIEN. 

" To the Chairman of the Committee of Selection." 

Mr. O'Coimell's letter bears date on the next day, as announced 
in the correspondent's notice, because it was intended it should 
only be delivered until the honorable gentleman was beyond the 
pale of English jurisdiction. 

"British Hotel, Jermyn-street, 

8 a. m. July 1st. 

" Sir — I have to acknowledge the receipt of a notification by order of 
your committee, to the effect that my attendance in parliament will be 
required during the week beginning Monday, 14th, July, for the purpose 
of serving, if chosen, on a parliamentary committee. 

" With every respect to you, Sir, and the gentleman of your commit- 
tee, I absolutely decline attending. 

" I, like some others, came to London the first time this session about 
a fortnight ago to remonstrate against, and endeavour to resist the plan 
of infidel education which the government are forcing upon Ireland. We 
had not, nor for some years have had, the slightest hope of obtaining any 
measure of good from a foreign parliament, but became against our better 
judgment, that it might not be said we had not gone all lengths to en- 
deavour to deter the government from a scheme so redolent of political 
corruption, social proflgacy, and religious infidelity. 



5 I THE FELON'S TRACK. 

• \\Y came trmed with multitudinous petitions ofthe people, and the 
_-. unanimous, and most decided protest from our revered prelacy 
and oTi 

•• Wc irere of course mocked at. derided, and refused ; but, what is of 
Infinitely more consequence, the voice of our prelates and of the faithful 

people of Ireland have beet) treated with Qtter Contempt — even Irish 

Catholics (yielding to the unwholesome influences around them) joining 
in the contemptuous refusal 

•• Dnder these oireumstanees, Sir. I certainly will not suffer that por- 
tion of tin- people of Ireland who have intrusted their representation to 
my oharge to be farther mocked at and insulted in my person. I go to 
where 1 can best discharge my duty to them and to Ireland — m Ireland 

There Struggling, with douhtless as little ability, hut with more e; 

and if possible, more whole hearted devotion than ever, to j . u r an end 

to the present degradation of my Country and obtain for her that which 

can alone ensure protection to her interests, relief t<; her many wants. 

and peace, freedom and happiness, to her long oppressed and long endur- 
ing people 

" I have the honour to be. Sir, your obedient servant. 

"JOHN O'CONNBLL. 
:; To the Chairman ofthe Committee of Selection." 

'i hese documents were entered on the minutes of the associa- 
tion, ami remained on its records with the original resolution. Hut 
no more was done in the matter until the beginning of April, L846. 

Mr. O'Connell and his son wore in London, and Mr. O'Brien 
remained in Ireland. They had been all summoned to attend <>n 
committees. When Mr. O'Brien reached London, he found that 
the Messrs. O'Connell, without any previous communication with 
hint or with the association, and without reference to the solemn 
resolution, to the contrary, of that body, were acting on committees. 
This deeply disappointed and mortified him, and ho at one 

i to remain faithful, at all risks, and though ho stood alone, 
to the obligation which he had contracted with the sanction and 
approval ol his country. Whatever may ho the temper and resolu- 
tion ofthe House ofCommons, had it been resisted by the unbro- 
ken strength of the association, it felt confident of its power to 
crush Mr. O'Brien alone, seperate from, nay abandoned by, the 
great leader of the Irish people. It must be acknowledged that 
tiie course pursued by the ( Commons, was considerate and moder- 
ate. \ principle involving their liberty ol action, was in is 
to vindicate it. wis indispensable, hut finding themselves only 
opposed by a Bingle man. of all those who had provoked the en- 
counter, th y pm< ded with caution and forbearance. They for- 

warned, counselled, and remonstrated during the time that inter- 
vened; an I members of the house, including Mr. ( V( 'onneli, 
d Mr. O'Brien I i give way. He refused, determinedly, and it 
may be supposed qoi the less sternly, when he found, anion- those 
who advised him to falsify his solemn promise, me man upon 

whose authority and through whoso influence he had made it. 

The result was, his arrest and imprisonment, for disobedience to 



THE FELON'S TRACK. .~>5 

the House. Circumstances more trying never beset the fortitude of 
a great man. Personal liberty was bis slightest loss. Thesneerg 
of his enemies, the pity of his personal, and fhe desertion of his 

political friends, poisoned the very air of the miserable cell to which 
he was consigned, and what completed his agony, was a notion 
that he had been abandoned by his country. 

During the early part of his imprisonment, a motion was made, 
questioning the authority of the House. In the course of the dis- 
cussion. Sir Thomas Wilde, then Attorney-General, dared my 
constitutional lawyer to impugn the jurisdiction assumed by the 
House. Every member felt that the challenge was offered to Mr. 
O'Connell, who replied as follows : 

" I am sure that the house will give credit to my assurance that I 
should not rise to advocate the cause of my honourable friend, if I 
thought he had had the slightest intention of being disrespectful towards 
the house. It has not been his intention to be guilty of any contempt 
towards it : he thought he was entitled to make the exception to which 
he adheres. He has acted from a strong sense of duty, and I am sorry 
to see it is a sense of duty he is not likely to give up." 

I add to this an extract from his speech delivered at the Corn 
Exchange, when, in spite of the most earnest remonstrance, the 
Association offered its defiance in solemn form to the British Par- 
liament. 

•• Mr. O'Connell rose amid loud cheers, and said, our usual course of 
proceeding in this hall, is to commence with handing in money, and then 
to go on with business of inferior importance, the business of making 
speeches, (hear, hear, and laughter,) but among the passing events of the 
day, there is one of such signal importance, that I am sure you will 
readily admit that I am right, when I claim for it, on the present occa- 
sion, a right of precedence over any donation or subscription, no matter 
from what quarter they may come. The matter I allude to is a menace 
held out for the intimidation (as it is supposed,) of the Irish members 
who are given to understand that there is about to be a call of the House. 
and that it is intended that the speaker's warrant shall issue to compel 
them to go over to London. Now, sir, I think it right to apprise the 
association and the country, that having considered this question atten- 
tively, I have made up my mind that the speaker has no constitutional 
authority whatever to issue any such warrant." 

But what pained Mr. O'Brien the deepest, was the apparent 
coldness, apathy or cowardice of the Irish people. Among them, 
and them only, he calculated on enthusiastic sustainment. But 
those, who felt the deepest in his regard, were constrained by the 
responsibility of coming to an open rupture with Mr. O'Connell, at 
a time when union in the ranks of the Association was mdespen- 
sable to even partial success. A vote was proposed to the com- 
mittee, approving of Mr. O'Brien's act, and pledging the Associa- 



56 THE FELON - TRACK. 

tion to an identification with the principle by which his conduct 
was governed. That vote was resisted by the whole of Mr. Con* 
cell's family and personal friends, and by all the pensioners and 
employees of the body. It was carried, nevertheless. Bui s mo- 
tion to consult Mr. O'Connell as to its legality, was passed, and the 
resolution was transmitted to him accordingly. His reply was, an 
urgent remonstrance against the resolution, on the ground of ille- 
gality. Meantime, repress ntations were made thai a certain party 
in the Association, intolerant of Mr. O'Connell's sway, were using 
that occasion to undermine his authority, and overthrow his power. 
The great responsibility of causing disunion, determined the sup- 
porters of the resolution to compromise with its opponents, and it 

was anally shaped thus : 

• Resolved, Thai having learned with deep regret, that by a resolution 
of the House of Commons the country has bees deprived of the eminent 
services of Mr William Smith O'Brien, and that illustrious mem 
this Association himself committed to prison, we cannot allow this oppor- 
tunity to p:iss without conveying to him the assurance of our undimin- 
ished confidence in his integrity, patriotism, and personal courage, and 
our admiration for the high Bense of duty and purity of purpose whioh 
prompted him to risk his personal liberty in assertion of a principle 
which he believed to be inherent in the constitution of his country." 

It was .-t lt.-i in. in its modified form, transmitted to Mr. O'Connell, 
and returned with his disapprobation. Captain Broderick read a 
letter from him, to that effect, at a meeting of the committee, sud- 
denly summoned on Monday, the 1th of May, a few hours only 
previous to the pubhe meeting of the Association, deprecating the 
passing o! the resolution in any form. The present writer was 
the proposer of the resolution, and feeling that he had already 
made too great a compromise, he refused t<> accede to this last re- 
quest of .Mr. ( )*( Jonnell. The resolution was proposed and adopted 
with acclamation, and a Letter was read from Mr. O'Connell, hy 
Mr. Kay. in which he stated that the resolution did not go far 
enough. 

In the provinces, the timid policy of the Lssociation, was d< 
with bitterness, and the men who struggled, against great odds, to 

identity the whole island with Mr. O'Brien, and pledge it to sus- 
tain him t<> the last, were subjected to the most virulent denunci- 
ations. Because the compromised resolution was mow d, a cond- 
ed. and spoken to hy them, the whole country regarded them as 
the betrayers of their own avowed chief, and the violence with 
which they were attacked, was unmeasure 1 and unscrupulous. 

They made no reply. N<> unjust aspersions from a people in 
ignorance of the resistance offered to them, and tin 1 motives that 
influenced them, could induce them t<> explain the position they 
bad taken. Hut when the\ saw while they were subjected t<> the 
storm tbat Mr. O'Connell's friends, on the authority of his published 
ht tor neutrality, they resolved once mori 



THE FELON'S TRACK. 57 

the question in a body, whose proceedings were of a more private 

character, and where the most marked difference of opinion could 
lead to no fatal result — the 82 Club. Mr. O'Connell was the presi- 
dent of this Club, and Mr. O'Brien one of its vice-presidents. A 
meeting was called. The attendance was unusually large. 
Men who had never before and have never since appeared at its 
meetings, were present. The question proposed was, that an ad- 
dress he presented to Mr. O'Brien, in which his principles add his 
conduct would be fully recognised, approved of, and adopted. 
This led to a discussion that lasted two days, but the motion was 
carried in the end, by a majority of two to one. One man, and 
one only, unconnected with Mr. O'Connell, either by personal 
friendship or personal obligations, voted against the resolution. 
That man is Sir Coleman O'Loughlen. His name is mentioned, 
because he was the only member of the minority whose motives 
could be regarded as unquestionable. For the rest, the minority 
was composed of Mr. O'Connell's sons and relatives, with Mr. Ray 
and Mr. Crean, officers of the Association, and one or two mem- 
bers whom he had caused to be returned to Parliament, amount- 
ing to twelve. A committee was appointed to prepare the ad- 
dress and resolutions, which were written by John Mitchel, and 
adopted by the committee, without the change of a word. They 
also determined that the address should be adopted in its integrity 
by the Club, or not at ah. When it was proposed, objection was 
again taken to its principle, on the ground that it would commit 
the Club, and involve it in a hopeless conflict with the House of 
Commons, which, of itself, it was averred, would be a misdemeanor 
at common law. The proposition was eminently absurd in com- 
mon sense, as well as law, but it was sustained by the practiced 
ingenuity and great skill of Mr. O'Hea, who, to do him justice, 
seemed deeply to feel the hopelessness and shamefulness of the 
task that was assigned him. But no other argument could pre- 
vail, and this appeal to the fears or selfishness of its wealthiest 
members was had recourse to in consequence of the utter poverty 
of reason and argument, which could otherwise be presented 
against the principle of the address. But such an obligation led 
to novel difficulty, and a bitterer conflict. A discussion involving 
principles of the greatest moment, narrowed into a technical dis- 
quisition of abstract law. Mr. O'Hea was driven from his position 
by the unanimous and unqualified opinion of every barrister pre- 
sent, and even by his own silence, when dared to allow the ad- 
dress to pass in the negative, and assume the responsibility of its 
rejection on the avowed ground of his legal opinion, as expressed 
to the meeting. The address was adopted by a greater majority 
than that which had confirmed the principle on the previous day, 
and a deputation was appointed to present it to Mr. O'Brien, in his 
prison. 

The members of that deputation, who proceeded to fulfil their 
mission, were William Bryan, of Raheny Lodge, John Mitchel, 



THE FELON s TRACK. 

I! O'Gorman, Thomas Francis Meagher, and the present 

T :companied by Terence Bellew McManus, 

: l' «)!. who joined them in London. They waited on 
Mr. O'Connell, as the president of the <'lul>. produced the ad 
and requested lie would proceed with them t>> present it. II.- ad- 
mited, without question, that as It was adopted by bo \- ry large 
and influenti d a majority, he was hound to d<> so. But he added 
thai Mi'. O'Brien refused to receive a visit from him, owing t<> the 
p u! he had taken, and further said, if Mr. ( >'Brien expressed a wish 
to Bee him, that ho would accompany us. The deputation on 
their way to the House of Commons, consulted for a moment, and 
as well as I remember, Doctor Gray and some others were present, 
tie- result of which was a determination to present the address 
without Mr. O'Connell feeling that an explanation i him 

and Mr. ( rHrien. could not Tail to lead to unpleasant recrimination, 
if not most serious diff The address and answer were as 

follows : 

"To William Smith O'BanUf, ESQ. 

"Rbspected Vice-President am> Brother. - Heartily approving of 
the course yen have taken in refusing to devote to the concerns of ano- 
ther people any of the time which your own constituent- and countrymen 
feel to be of so much value to them, we, your brethren of the '82 Club. 
take this occasion of recording our increas id confidence in, and i 

'ii, personally End politically, and OUT determination to sustain and 
stand by you in asserting the right of Ireland to the undistraeted labours 
of our own representatives in parliament 

•• We. sir. like yourself, have long since ' abandoned for ever all hope 
of obtaining wise and beneficial legislation for Ireland from the Imperial 
Parliament .' oor would such legislation, even if attainable, satisfy our 
aspirations "\\'e :llv confederated together in the '82 Club, upon the 
plain ground that no body of men ought to 1 ave power to make laws 
binding this kingdom, save the Monarch. Lords, and Commons of Ire- 
land. Prom that principle' we shall never depart, and with God's help 
it shall soon find recognition by a parliament of our own. 

•• Upon the mode in which the dOUSC of Commons has thought fit to 
lise the privilege it asserts in the present instance — upon the per- 
sonal discourtesy which has marked all the late proceedings in your re- 
gard, we shall make but one comment, that every insult to you is felt 
a- an insult to us and to the people of Ireland. 

■• It vrould be idle and out ofplacc to offer condolence to you. confined 
in an English prison for such an offence. We congratulate you that 
you have mad.' yourself the champion of vour Country's rights, and sub- 
mitted to ignominy for a CRUie which you and we know >hall one day 

triumph. 

(Signed.) 

"COLMAN M O'LOGLEN, Vi« President, 

Chairman. 
Kay9th, IS 

B . Club — I receive this address with pride and 

. tion 



THE FELON'S TRACK. 59 

• T recognise in the 'S2 Club a brotherhood of patriots, wlio have vol- 
unteered to take the foremost place in contending for the liberties of 
Inland, and who may vie. in regard of ability, integrity, and sincerity 
of purpose, with any political association, consisting of equal numbers, 
which has ever been united in voluntary confederation. 

'•The unqualified approval recorded to my conduct by such a body 
justifies me in entertaining a sentiment of honorable pride, which 1 am 
not ashamed to avow. 

•• Nor shall I attempt to disguise the satisfaction with which I receive 
this address. 

"If you had approached me with language of condolence, I could 
scarcely have dissembled my grief and disappointment ; but you have 
justly felt that such language would be unsuited to the occasion, and 
unworthy both of yourselves and of me. 

'• On the contrary, you congratulate me upon being subjected to re- 
proach and indignity for having aspired to vindicate the rights of my 
native land ; you deem, as I deem, that to suffer for Ireland is a privilege 
rather than a penalty. 

u In acknowledging your address, I shall not dwell upon the many im- 
portant considerations which are involved in my present contest with 
the House of Commons. I cannot but think, indeed, that the constitu- 
tional questions at issue are of the highest moment, not alone to the Irish 
people, but also to each member of the legislature, and to every parliamen- 
tary elector in the United Kingdom. Upon the present occasion, how- 
ever. I am contented to waive all reference to collateral issues, and to 
justify my conduct upon the simple ground upon which it has received 
your approval — namely, that until a domestic legislature shall be obtained 
for Ireland, my own country demands my undivided exertions. 

" Be assured that those exertions will not be withheld so long as life 
and liberty remain to me, until Ireland shall again fiat the Declaration 
of 1 782 — k That no body of men is entitled to make laws to bind the Irish 
nation, save only the Monarch, the Lords, and the Commons of Ireland.' " 

On my way home, I was invited to address a public meeting of 
repealers in Liverpool. I accepted the invitation and in the 
course of my observations, emphatically repudiated all compro- 
mise on the subject of my country's deliverance. I disclaimed 
the idea that any concessions, any equalization with England in 
political franchises, any amelioration of our political or social con- 
dition, could ever be accepted by Ireland ; in compromise of her 
inalienable independence. When I arrived in Dublin, I attended 
the association, and happening to read a letter from the Reverend 
Mr. Walshe of Clonmel, couched in the wannest terms of admir- 
ation'of Mr. O'Brien's purity and heroism, the cowardice or jealousy 
of a certain party in the Hall found expression through its proper 
organs, and I was called to order in the name of the law. A 
violation of law to praise William Smith O'Brien. The chairman 
decided it was. To such decision I scorned to submit, and I read 
the letter to the end, amidst the most enthusiastic cheers of the 
audience. I was proceeding to read another letter from another 
clergyman of the same town, written in a very different spirit, 



hit THE FELON 8 TRACK. 

when I was besought to withhold it. and entreated me not to read 
it — I complied. It is but fair to add here thai on the Saturday 

. an article was published in the Nation, some expressions of 
which Mi. O'Connell considered personally insulting. 

Whether Mr. , Connell was influenced by one or all of these 
occurrences, cannot be affirmed here Hut ho proceeded to Ireland 
in the course oi the week, and suddenly called a meeting of the 
Committee of the Association, before which he arraigned us of 
discourtesy to him in London, found fault with the meeting at 
Liverpool, accused the Nati m of attacking him. ami. final! 
pressed his unequivocal disapprobation <>f my resistance to the 
order <>t' the chairman in the Hall. The deputation explained 
their conduct in London, and the motives that governed them, 
with which he appeared to be satisfied. All connection with the 
proceeding in Liverpool with which he tool, offence, was disclaim- 
ed, and, finally, .Mr. Duffy satisfied him that no offence was meant 
him in the Nation, and that the passage of which he complained 
had no reference to him. 

The discussion was a lom_r. and to some extent, an angry one. 

[tended however, aa we thought, amicably. .Mr. O'Connell had 
proposed in the outset two objects, namely, to express a solemn 
condemnation of the proceedings in Liverpool, and to expel the 

Nation from the Association. The rule of th<- association was to 

send to every locality, at the expense of tic bo iy. whatever papers 

the subscribers of a certain sum desired, 'There were then three 
other weekly papers in Dublin, 'The •• Register," the •• Freeman,* 5 

and the " Old Irelander.*' The Nat ion had a circulation nearly 

equal to that of all the others. Its expulsion from th atiou 

would at once deprive it of all the circulation it had through its 

y. thus involvings very serious pecuniary loss to .Mr. Duffy. 
The true positions were abandoned, and the ( 'ommittee separat- 
ed on amicable terms. Another subject of importance was under 
discussion. This was. what suitable mark of national respect 
should be offered to Mr. O'Brien; and it was proposed thai the 
( Committee should re-assemble on the following day. (Sunday), at 
two o'clock. At the second meeting the disagreeable topics of the 
former evening, were revived ami discussed in a more acri- 
monious spirit and tone. The Committee was differently com- 
posed; most of the treasurers, connected with the Committee, 
being present, and most of the professional men. who attended on 

lay. being absent, Mr. < V( lonnell saw his advantage, or those, 
under whose guidance he unfortunately was. saw it. and urged 
him on. He clearly had a majority. Bui having satisfied hin 

tild succeed, with a resolution refusing to circulate th 

tion, lie generously conceded the whole matter : and once more 

' I ' 'inmittee separated on good terms. 

It wis hoped that, as the concession was entirely voluntary. 
Mr. O'Connell would be content. This was a vain hope. On 
next day, he referred to the Bubject in terms o( unmitigated ani- 



THE FELON'S TRACE. Gl 

mosity ; and on Tuesday, the resolution of exclusion, in effect, 

though not formally, passed, in the absence of most of those who 
were well known to be opposed to it. 

One word of concession would have saved the Nation, at this 
juncture ; but that one word would not be written, had the con- 
sequence of refusal been the loss of every subscriber it had in the 
world. It maintained its high position in lace of the two despo- 
tisms which had combined to crush it. The resolution of the as 
sociation was not formally recorded, but it remained in readiness 
to be re-asserted as soon as the trial in the Queen's Bench would 
be over. 

That trial was foi the celebrated railroad article, written by 
John Mitchel. When the article first appeared, Mr. O'Conneli 
came to the Nation office. He seated himself familiarly, and, see- 
ing all its contributors around him, he said, "I came to complain 
of this article." He then read through until, where certain princi- 
ples, previously promulgated, were recommended to repeal ward- 
ens as the catechism they should teach. " I do not object," said 
he, "to your principles ; but I object to your coupling them with 
the duties of repeal wardens, who are the officers of the Associa- 
tion. Mr. Duffy promised, at once, to explain the matter, to 
Mr. O'Connell's satisfaction, in the next number. He did so ac- 
cordingly, and no more was said of it until after, the prosecution 
was commenced. 

On the 17th of June, Mr. Duffy was placed at the bar, on an 
information or indictment, setting forth the entire of the obnoxious 
a: tide. The Government was vehement and imperative, and the 
Bench constitutionally jealous of the law. The prosecution was 
conducted with malevolent ability, and the court charged, with 
pious zeal, for the crown. Robert Holmes was counsel for the 
accused and, in an impassioned speech, on every word of which 
was stamped the impress of originality, vigour and beauty, vindi- 
cated, not the "liberty of the press," but the truth of the startling 
propositions Mr. Mitchel had propounded. 

In the Hall, the speech was regarded as triumphant for the 
country, but conclusive against Mr. Duffy. It was said, that for 
sake of his client he should confuse, confound and deny. The 
fact, however, justified the advocate. When Mr. Mitchel, first 
promulgated his principles, they grated strongly on the public ear. 
Men openly pronounced the doctrines pernicious and bloody., — 
But the veteran of the bar, speaking in the spirit of the more 
glorious times, he remembered, denounced, as a slave and a cow- 
ard, any one who thought them too strong for the occasion, on 
which they were used, and the provocation to which they applied. 
For a brief moment, he awoke, in other hearts, the spirit that liv- 
ed in his own. The jury refused to convict, and were discharged. 
But the prosecution in which the Attorney- General failed, was 
transferred before a more loyal tribunal, and Mr. Duffy was con- 



52 THE FELON'S TRACK. 

demned by the judgment of Conciliation Hall; a judgment of 
which something remains to be said hereafter. 

It has been stated that the subject of testifying the respect of 
the Nation for its chivalrous advocate, after his release from the 
.1 of the Hon > of Commons he was discharged without 
compromi* i a on the 26th of M *ras under dis- 

cussion. 

\ public and triumphal entry was det srmin ?d on. But Mr. Smith 
( >"li; ien, desirous that the b! I v 1 1 should I)*' partici- 

pators in any tribute of respect offered him, requested that the 6th 
of September, the day of their release from prison, should be fixed 
on for a public triumph, i'i which all alike could share. 

Mr. O'Brien passed through the metropolis, quietly, on his way 
home; but in Limerick and Newcastle, was I by hundreds 

oi thousands, with boundless joy. When he returned to town, it 
wa-> to be expelled from that body to which he, of all living men, 
most firmness, and for which h< i alone acquired most r aspect 
In the evi his which followed, the public dinner was forgotten. 

It is now time to recur to those events, some of which at least 
range behind those already detailed— to which the following pre- 
liminary may be necessary. Early in June, a meeting wis held 
at Lord John Russell's, when the minist sr expectant, explained the 
grounds on which he claimed the support of the entire Liberal 
party. The English Liberals, generally and enthusiastically, ac- 
quiesced. The correspondent of the Evening Mail, writing from 
Louden, stated that Mr. ( V( tonnell, added to his adhesion, a volun- 
tary promise to sink the cause of repeal, provided measures oi a 
truly liberal character were carried into effect 1 Ee, moreover, said 
that he never meant more by repeal than a thorough identification 
of the two countries. The Nation indignantly repelled the insin- 
uations of the correspondence, and pronounce I it a lie. Mr. 
O'Connell and his friends passed the Mail by unnoticed, but be- 
1 en the Nation, their m lasureless wrath. It was never after- 
wards forgiven. 



CHAPTER V. 

Defeat of Peel. Accession of the Whigs. Mr. O'Con- 
nell's course. Debates in Conciliation Hall. Mr. 
o'connell denounces the young ireland party. c( \- 
tinued Debates. Questions at Issue. Physical Force* 

The Secession. Whig Alliance. Dim, in Remon- 
strance. Formation of the Confederation — its < ' \- 
reer. Mr. O'Connell's Death. Close of the year 18 17. 

On the 26th of June, Sir Robert Peel, was defeated in the House 
of Commons j on motion that the Irish Coercion Bill be read a 
second time. 

The majority against him was seventy-three, and was com- 
posed of the Whig party, the extreme conservatives, the ultra 
radicals, and Irish repealers. In ten days after, Lord John Russell 
assumed the seals of office, jhiring the preliminary arrangements 
that led to Peel's defeat, there was much coquetting between the 
Whig and Irish leaders. Alarmed by this startling aspect of affairs, 
and somewhat, perhaps, by the uncontradicted correspondence of 
the Mail, heretofore alluded to, Mr. Meagher, in the midst of 
vociferous cheering, announced, from the Tribune of Conciliation 
Hall, " that Irish repealers would teach an honest lesson, to the 
Whigs." This took place on the 15th of June. A short discus- 
sion followed, in which Messrs. Mitchel, O'Gorman, and Barry, 
took part, denouncing in the strongest language, all idea of com- 
promise with the Whigs. On the next day of meeting (June 22d) 
a letter was read from Mr. O'Connell, expressing "the bitterest 
regret at the efforts being made by some of their juvenile mem- 
bers, to create dissension in the Association." " To silence all 
unworthy cavilling," he desired that the solemn pledge of the Ro- 
tunda be read after his letter, and copies thereof posted in the Hall. 
This letter was the signal for an attack on the Seceders, by James 
Fitzpatrick, who is now enjoying his reward, in shape of a lucra- 
tive office, on the coast of Africa. Another discussion followed, 
in which Messrs. Mitchel, Barry, O'Gorman, and myself, repelled 
the charge urged against us, by Lord John Russell, to the effect 
that we were separatists. 

The discussion which followed, was an angry one. Fierce de- 
nunciations, against the Whigs, proceeded from the Seceders, 
which were answered by the old Irelanders, as they called them- 
selves, with clap-trap allusions to the name and fame of the " Lib- 
erator." The audience were indisposed to be duped, and so strong 
and general was the aversion to a Whig compromise, that Mr. D. 
O'Connell, jun., was denied a hearing, and even the Secretary 
found it difficult to command a moment's attention. 



THE FELON - TRACK. hi 

r . next letter from ftfr. O'Connell, was written after the ac- 
cession of tli" \\ higs. It. too, evidently bore the impress of that 
controlling fact The writer enumerated twelve measures (exclud- 
1x10 repeal,) "without which no British minister should dream of 
bidding for the people oi Ireland." ( m the whole, the letter, which 
and elaborate, was an unmistakable, though very guani- 
ne to give another trial to the Whigs. Mr. O'Brien, in 
ii, .viir' that it be inserte ! on the minutes, pressed his conviction, 
bi '' millions would never abandon repeal." He < '. 

by reading a resolution pi n L842, and seconded by Mr. 

( >"< lonnell bimself, to the effect, that the W higs were as inimical to 
i\ as the Tories ; and that no honest r< ould vote for a 

Whig representative. Mr. O'Brien, on this occasion, took a wrong 
course. Instead ot moving that the letter be inserted on the min- 
ne should have moved its rejection, as containmg doctrines, 
subversive ot* principle and inconsistent with the solemn pledges of 
the Nation, lie was. no doubt, influenced by a desire to preserve 
unanimity : but the unanimity, which is based on the disruption of 
most binding obligations, is weaker and more fatal than any divi- 
sion. One paramount advantage v«puld result from, at once, join- 
ing issue with Mr. O'Connell — the question would be placeu on 
ground, and the preposterous folly ot* the physical and 
moral force abstractions would never have \h'('\\ heard of. 

.Mr. O'Connell appeared in Conciliation Hall, on Monday, the 
6th of July, lie stated that his object was. to ascertain the state 
of the registries, so as to resist the return of the anti-repealers, in 
any of the towns where a vacancy was Likely to occur. Bm lie 
added. "1 will give no vexations opposition." Here a voi ■ • cried. 
« Dungarvan," with significant emphasis, a question Mr. O'Con- 
nell evaded with his usual dexterity. Four seats were then actu- 
ally vacant : Dungarvan, Droheda, Dundalk, and Roscommon 
county. In the three former, there were clear majorities in favour 
ot" repeal. 'That question admitted of no earthly doubt. It had 
been long before enquired into, and assurances, the most unequiv- 
ocal, were transmitted to the Association. On motion of Mr. 
( )'( lonnell, the question was referred to the committ 

Daniel 0*Connell, jun., was a candidate for Dundalk, where a 
public dinner was given him. on the 7th. His father attended, 
and said. u I tell you there is another experiment to be mad 
which every honest mid rationafman^ of every party \ will join* 
Similar doctrines were to be found in his former letter and Bpeech, 
■ referred to; and the other members ^i' the Association, 
awoke to a sense of the danger that threatened the body. Mean- 
time, the Dungarvan committee proceeded with its labours, A 
deputation from that town waited on them -the parish priest and 
two others. They paid their first visit, however, to the S cretary, 
at the ('astle. They found it ,is easy to satisfy the committee, ox 
its majority, as the Secretary found it, to satisfy themselves. They 
advised there should be no opposition given to Mr. Shul, on tin Be 



THE FELON'S TRACK. 



65 



two grounds. First, because succ< then impossible, owing 

to the shortness of the time for preparation. And secondly, 

use a failure then would endanger the cause, at the general 
election, which was to take place in a few months. The sincerity 
of these reasons was tested by the facts, that, at the general elec- 
tion, the same parish priest stood at the hustings, to propose and 
sustain the same official of the Whigs, insolently proclaiming his 
steadfastness inO'Connell's glorious principles, while he was huck- 
stering away the honor and independence of his country; and 
thai at that general election, when the people of Dungarvan were 
more openly betrayed and trafficked on, by John O'Connell, and 
when they had to contend against the treachery of the priest, the 
treachery of the Association, and the whole strength of the Whigs, 
they were only defeated in their opposition to Mr. Shiel, by three 
votes. But, sincere or not, absurd or not, they were conclusive 
with the committee, or its chairman, who reported, that it was not 
advisable to oppose Mr. Shiel, and this report was published just 
two days alter Mr. Shiel had been returned unopposed. 

No wonder that the actual return of Mr. Shiel, which the com- 
mittee was charged to resist, had escaped its vigilance ; for the cel- 
ebrated peace resolutions were, at the same time, under discussion, 
and produced simultaneously with the Dungarvan report. Mr. 
Mitchel, Mr. CVGorman, and. Mr. Meagher, who attended the com- 
mittee, vainly remonstrated against the betrayal of Dungarvan, 
as well as the peace resolutions. They saw, that the real object 
of the resolutions was to blind the country to the other important 
question, whether the Irish constituencies were to be transferred 
once more to Whig place-men ; and they confined their opposition 
principally to the Dungarvan case. It must be admitted, too, that 
the falsehood, involved in the peace resolutions, escaped their at- 
tention, in the first instance ; and they were under the impression 
that the pledge they contained, extended no farther than the action 
of the Association itself was concerned. On consideration, they 
found it was of far wider scope, and would engage them to a false 
principle, embracing all men, all countries, and all times ; and 
having stated this at the public meeting of the Association, they 
allowed the resolutions to pass without farther opposition. 

The original resolution on whiqh the Association was framed, 
is this : 

' : The total disclaimer of, and absence from, all physical force violence 
or breach of the law." 

The resolution, reported on the 13th of July, 1846, is as follows : 

" That, to promote political amelioration, peaceable means alone should 
be used, to the exclusion of all others, save those that are peaceful, legal 
and constitutional." 



Sometimes, it has been averred lately, that these two resolutions 

5 



66 TB I K. 

are, in principle and effect, Mr. O'Connell himself de- 

I the latter was introduced by him, "to d\ f de- 

marcation Old and Young Ireland" Indeed, if there were 

qo distinction, its Lntioduction would be eminently al • well 

as pernicious. Ami if they be different, at tially they are, 

there must be Borne strong justification for the adoption of the 

latter. 

But before proceeding to this enquiry, it may not be amiss to 

point out the exact distinction, between the original, and the new 
resolution. The former embraced f action, whereby the 

members of the Association engaged th< ir faith and honour to 

each other and the country, that they would not U 1 ncv, 

to cause or promote physical force or violence of any kit 

commit one another to any act of illegality, lint it went uo far- 
it enunciated no moral dogma a rule of conscience rather 
than a pledge of conduct such as the other; -and it claimed no 
sacrifice of one's own convictions. As a mutual gua 
was not only just, hut essential to the perfect safety ofth< 
sociation. 

On the other hand, the new resolution excluded the question 
of practical action altogether. Neither in itself, nor in its pream- 

. as there an averment, or even an assumption of its n< 
ty, as a rule of guidance. It was a mere abstract opinion, utterly 
irrespective of the object or conduct of the association, and only 
applicable, as a test of certain speculative th But not alone 

was it inapplicable, and preposterous; it was utterly untru 
least, there are many men, who could not subscribe to it. without, 
according to their own convictions, being guilty of a he. Sup- 
posing, however, that the seceders had attempted Id violate 

Id constitution of the confederacy, it may !><• argued that .Mr. 
O'Connell would be justified, in preparing the most string* at tests 
for the purpose of restraining them. Hut no such attempt was 
ever made; no one proposed, in the association, no one hinted, 

outside it. that it OUghl to vii ! of its rules. \ i COm- 

plained of these rules, or said they ought to he changed, modified, 
or. to the least extent, relaxed. Neither directly nor indirectly, 

openly nor covertly, was th. re a word spoken, nor an act done, or 

a suggestion offered, to that effect The resolution was, therefore, 
uncalled tor and unnecessary, as it was unsound and untru 
Of this there is the clearest proof. First, the negative pr< 
concl lir. O'Connell did not name an act, or refer to a word 

of on • Mi der, which would justify the imputation, 

they sought or desired to involve the association in any expedient 
sistent with its fundamental rules. His only proof was this, 
and ' I then rely on it : Lord John Russell stated in the 

house, •• I am told that one party among the repealers are anxious 
for a separation from England." This is his solitary proof, nor 
ppear that he was not himself the informant ^i the min- 
I5ut the positive proofs at the other side are nun 



THE FELON'S TRACK. 67 

incoatestible. I select a few. On the 13th of July Mr. O'Gor- 
man, in presence of M*. O'Connell, said, "in order that there shall 

be no misconception on the subject, as far as £ am concerned, I 
say. at one, . lam no advocate for physical force. As a member 

of the association I am bound by its laws. One of these is, that 
its object is not to be attained by the use of physical force, but by 
moral means only" Mr. Mitchel, on that occasion, said : " This 
is a legally organized and constitutional society seeking to attain 
its object, as all the world knows, by peaceable means and none 
other. Constitutional agitation is the very basis of it ; and no 
body who contemplates any other mode of bringing about the in- 
dependence of the country, has a right to come Jiere, or consider 
hi ///self a fit member of our association" On the 2Sth of July, 
rfeagher said, u I do advocate the peaceful policy of the as- 
sociation. It is the only policy we can and should adopt. If it 
be 'pursued with truth, with courage and w ith firmness of pur pose, 
I do firmly believe it will succeed" 

Mr. M. J. Barry, on the 7th of June, said, " 7/ is perfectly plain 
to all, that the purpose of the association is, to work out its object 
by z/ieans of moral force and that only" In my letter to Mr. Kay, 
witten long after the secession, I ' used these words : " The first" 
(original rule of the association) " implies a pledge and an obliga- 
tion, to which every member of the association bound himself. 
Any member, who violates it, or would induce the Association to 
infringe it, must be false to his own vow and treacherous to the 
association, whence he should be expelled with every mark of in- 
famy:' 

These proofs are taken at random : they range over the time be- 
fore, after, and contemporaneous with, the secession. They could 
be multiplied, one hundred fold, and taken from the speeches and 
writings of every one of the seceders. Yet that fact availed 
nothing — they were told, because " they differed from the rules 
laid down by the Liberator, they ceased to be members of the 
association." 

This is, in some sort, a digression. I return to the events which 
directly precipitated the division. It will be remembered, that the 
objections of the seceders, to the peace resolution, were confined 
to an emphatic expression of dissent. They were not, then, in- 
formed that they ceased to be members. They attended the next 
meeting ; and, having repeated the same dissent, they expressed 
their fervent wish for a perfect understanding, and pledged them- 
selves to continue their co-operation, as if the resolution had not 
been passed. Mr. John Reilly repudiated these advances, and 
charged them with treachery to Ireland, as the natural comple- 
ment of disobedience to O'Connell. He gave notice that he would 
put certain interrogatories to Mr. O'Brien, in reference to a speech, 
delivered by him at Clare. On the next day of meeting, Mr. 
O'Brien attended, (July 26) and a letter from Mr. O'Connell, con- 
taming the bitterest complaints, against the " advocates of physi- 



Tli 

he pleased to call them, u tcho, n he said, H continn 
members of our Body, in spiti of our resolutions? was read. 

A discussion, acrimonious and prolonged, follow* d. The debate 
was adjourned to the nexl day, when It was again renewed. ( 
John < r( loimell spoke, for i 

his argument as of the •• S to the 

purpose entertained by the writers in L843. \ »n — 

••//•' / d promises of aid from Ledru Rollin, and many a su 

supplied him with abundant r loyal u 

tioii. He was heard without interruption. ! > to 

reply. He delivered thai mosl im] I oration, in wis 

occu] a the apostrophe to the sword. The meeting yielded 
frankness, sincerity', enthusia . of tho 

young orator, and rewarded him by its inconti and am 

1 1 ions applause. Mr.' J. CConnell d, inthemidsl of a scene 

of universal rapture, coldly said, "eil myself 

Thus occurred tb i s< cession. Mr. J. < >"< fonnell su ml. I 
must leave the Association.' 1 Too generous to avail himself of 
tin 1 enthusiasm he excited, Mr. Meagher withdrew. So did Mr. 
O'Brien, Mr. Mitchel, and the others, with more than three-fon 
of the meeting: 

rief, expressing his ardent hope that the "Liberator," on his 

arrival, would heal the wounds he had himself inflicted. How 

sincere was that hope, is proved by the tact, that, when 

O'Connell did arrive, which was on the Saturday following, he 

was prevented from proceeding farther than Kingstown, where ho 

s detained until the hour i ig on Monday; thus render- 

sible to have an interview with Mr. O'Brien, or any 

who could facilitate an arrangement. On Monday, instead of 

using soothing I; and kind advice, he probed the wounds 

to the bottom, and infused into them subtlest poison. It is need- 

h woidd be painful, to recount the details of bitterness and 

hate, with which on thai day, he dashed the hopes ^( the country. 

The result w;is deep ;md irreconcileable estrangement. Those who 

let'i the Hall, rather than drive therefrom the son of Daniel 

O'Connellj finding themselves repaid by calumny, yielded to the 

ivietion, wnich every b t of Mr. O'Connell condu 

to establish, namely, that the country. :nvi her great hope of des- 
tiny, were handed over to the Whi 

The proofs ot this beliefwere, first : The statement in the Mail, 
Which remained ondenied, and must, therefore, be tak< un- 

deniable. 

ondly: The expression, used by Mr. ( PConnell, in Ins speech 
at Conciliation Hall, thai he would give no "vexatious opposi- 
tion" to tli" \\ lii'. r nominee. 

Thirdly: Ihs statement, at Dundalk, that -one experiment 

more was to be made, in which every honest man would join." 5 

Fourthly : The following passage, which occurred in Mr. < W Jon 
nell'a Letter, dated London, 27th of June, 1846 : "There is an op- 



THE FELON S TRACK 09 

portunity to consider the Irish question as if on neutral grounds ; 
there is a glorious opportunity" (the return of the Whigs to power) 
"of deciding if the repealers be right in believing that no substan- 
tial relief can be given to Ireland, in a British Parliament ; or that 
they are wrong, to the demonstration that would result, from prac- 
tical justice being afforded by that Parliament" 

Fifthly : The assertion of Mr. Lawless, in a letter to Mr. O'Con- 
nell, dated 18th July, which the latter published, without contra- 
diction or comment, namely: "And yet it was with ditliculty you 
(Air. O'Connell) prevented his (Mr. Shiel) being opposed in his 
election for Dungarvan. v 

Sixthly: Mr. Shiel's election, without opposition, when his de- 
feat, if opposed, was perfectly certain. 

Seventhly : Mr. O'Connell's eulogy on the O'Connor Don for 
"accepting an office, which would enable him to serve his coun- 
try." — (Speeclt in Conciliation Hall, July 13.) 

Eighthly : Mr. O'Conncll's assertion, in his speech at Concilia- 
tion Hall — "I did not begin this quarrel; in my absence in Lon- 
don, an attack was made on the. Whig ministry." 

And, finally : The boasted acceptance by Mr. O'Cpnnell of the 
distribution of Whig patronage, and the appointment of his per- 
sonal friends to lucrative employment. 

All that followed was one unvaried scene of distraction, divi- 
sion, and enmity. Week after week, the seceders were held up to 
public odium, derision, and scorn. One day, they were '-blas- 
phemous," one day " revolutionary," one day, they " sang small," 
and one day "their nobles were come to ninepence." Now, they 
were challenged to establish a society on their own principles ; 
now, they were recommended to the mercy of the Attorney-Gene- 
ral, and again commended to the hatred of the people. Meantime 
a blight had fallen on the earth, and a whole people's food, in one 
night, perished. To the new Government, the famine, that en- 
sued, was an assurance of subsistence aud success. Hunger would 
waste the bodies of the people, as the dearth of truth had wasted 
their souls. The ministry affected great sympathy, great dili- 
gence, and great impotence. Among other wants of theirs, the 
want of practical engineers was felt the deepest. They knew and 
lamented, that many died of starvation ; but the thing was inevi- 
table, as long as they were unprovided with practical engineers. 
Mr. O'Connell, from the platform of the Hall, announced the good 
intentions of the Government, and proclaimed, at the same time, 
his own commission to supply them with engineers. How 
many applied and were refused, I am not in a position to say ; but 
there is no disputing the records of the church-yard, where many 
an uncorffned corpse attested the care of the " paternal govern- 
ment." The people were guaranteed against death, and yet death 
came, and took them at his will ; but what was left of life, was 
taught to exhaust itself in curses against those, who would save 
it, at every risk. Wherever the seceders appeared, they were 



;,» Tin: n:i.< in ■< TRACK 

Prostitutes of both led them as fit subj< 

for their insolent raillery. The avowed foes of nationality lool 
on them as fools ; its pretended friends, as kn »m- 

mon herd ofindifferenl villains, as a butt. The low retainers of the 
E lish garrison, who had sold their soula to the i but 

were kepi in awe by bodily fear, became outrageously patriotic; 
ami wiili insulted gratitude they scoute I the traducers of tl 
viour of their countn ' in I land, nothing was saved but 

death's agencies. Doom had come upon all her produce; her 
people, her hopes, and her morality. 

The same report, which contained the peace resolution, set out 
with a statemenl dissevering the Association from the Nation 
newspaper. If the statemenl were embodied in a resolution of 
expulsion, it would clash directly with the failure of the prosecu-l 
tion against it. and brand the jurors who refused to find a \ 
diet with perjury. But the admission of the Nation that, in 1843, it 
inculcated principles having a remote tendi i re- 

demption of the country, by anus if need wen-, supplied t! 

Kt for expelling it altogether. Two rules had 
been adopted for the circulation of new- T •' st was, 

when £10 i rwarded to the Secretary, the subscrib 

had the prii naming two weekly or one evening pap 

which the secrel to Forward and pay for. ond 

rule, adopted after the state trials, I ted the 

drawback, and selected and paid foT their own paper. re- 

ks, the Natioi be only theme of Mr. O'Connell's 

Khausted all his i pie 

; i. bul in vain. The continued to 

return for their subscriptions. Accordingly, on the 10th i f lu- 
ffed that no i [in- 
scribed for repeal pi of 
ation, on >und that, in I s ''!. it 
inculcated doctrines which were in their tendency treasonable. 
Mr. ( )'< Jonnell said, after the resoluti 

• wish to injur" t 1 iary poii nd 

the next day of he brought down to the ! Hon 

some twenty law aut ad, to prove thai I 

n comn 
■ 

rs determin d to They 

full the inse 

nd that truth would again prevail. 

to their 
coin s of th Nation, tl sted 

sland. But, in those ap- 
: or allui 
: then r dust them. They soughl to fix j i 

tional importanc 



THE FELON'S TRACK 71 

was their live* Meantime, week after week, the Government 
was praised, tin 4 board of works were praised, and the people — 
"the faithfid and moral /><<>/>/(■. who died) peacefully, ofhun 

a< r" were praised, ill the Repeal Association. 

Late in the autumn of 1840, sonic men, few in number and 
humble in condition, undertook the desperate task of remonstra- 
ting with the Repeal Association. Among them, Mr. Keely and 
Mr. Holywood, Mr. Orean and Mr. Halpin, were prominent. Their 
undertaking was gigantic, considering the formidable obstacles 
they proposed to encounter. They proceeded silently and 
sedulously ; and, in a few weeks, a remonstrance against the 
course pursued by the Association was signed by fifteen hundred 
citizens of Dublin. It was presented to the Chairman of the As- 
sociation, on the 24th of October, and ordered by Mr. J. O'Conncll 
to be flung into the gutter. The remonstrants and the public 
resented this indignity alike. It was determined to hold a 
meeting in the llotundo, where they proposed to defend them- 
selves against every species of assault. The meeting was held 
on the 3d of November, and was allowed to pass off without dis- 
turbance. Mr. McGee attended. He had never appeared in the 
struggle in the Hall, nor was he a member at the time. His speech 
at the Rotundo was calm, forcible, and conclusive on the points 
in issue ; and the excitement it created was, in no small degree, 
enhanced by the fact that the speaker was a young man, thereto- 
fore unknown. The success of the meeting suggested the practi- 
cability and safety of an experiment upon a large scale, prepara- 
tory to the formation of the confederation. The meeting was fixed 
for the 2nd of December. The remonstrant committee offered to 
defend it against any assailants. The main object was to reply 
to the calumnies which, for nearly six months, were urged against 
the leading seceders. The meeting was one of the most impor- 
tant ever held in the metropolis. It was intelligent, numerous, 
and fashionable. The entire ability of the seceders was put forth ; 
and such was the sensation created by the proceeding, that two 
publishers, one in Dublin and one in Belfast, brought out reports, 
in pamphlet form, which were read all over the country, with the 
greatest avidity. It was that night stated, only casually, that the 
seceders would meet in January, to announce to the nation the 
course of political action they would recommend. On the 13th 
of January, the promise was redeemed. The seceders met as be- 
fore, and their deliberations were guarded by the same men, who 
thus a third time risked their lives — the hazard was nothing less — 
to secure to the seceders freedom of speech and of action. On the 
13th of January, the Confederation was fully established. The 
bases, if the phrase be applicable, were freedom, tolerance, and 
truth. There was no avowal of war, and no pledge of peace. 
The great object was the independence of the Irish nation ; and 
no means to attain that end were abjured, save such as were in- 
consistent with honor, morality, and reason. 



THE I ELON - [RACK. 

During the inl time, h tween the 

meeti re made by Mr. < Vi kmnell. A 

sudden and singular chaa observable in his tone and lan- 

1 prin, and acknowledged with reluctance, 

that the position and strength of the party defied alike his ; 
and his address. Every art and every effort to crush them, had 
exhausted in rain. The question I them, he now 

loudly proclaimed, was one purely of law; and he referred to 
several barristers, by whose judgrrn nt he was ready to abide. 
The question, he was prepared to submit, ■ the meat 

mournful considerations. If it were not painful, it would be 
amusing to see to what patent absurdities he was compelled to 
He would leave ii to any one at the bar, whether 
"physical force principle" would not make the Association 
illegal : and then he would indulge in a hollow triumph over the 
certainty and security of his position. Hut that was not the ques- 
tion in issue. .None of ti ■ amended the prin- 
ciple of physical force, in pn to the Association. 
On the contrary, they disavowed it. in reference to that body, and 

own connection with it. The real question w 
whether it was nre« Bsary to the I igality of any political a 
to disavow, formally and forever, under all circumstances, and at 
all times, the right of men to strike down the cruellest tyranny, 
with the strong hand. It would be absurd to submit such a pro- 
position to a lawyer, which could only be answered by a huiu : I 
had been sufficiently settled by the fact, that, without .it. the 
Catholic Association, the Corn-law League, and the Re] 
ciation itself, up to the 13th of July, 1H ! >. wen- perfectly safe and 
I. But no man knew better than .Mr. ( V( 'onnell that 
this w gned issue, the real one being the mendicancy of the 

ad the treachery with which it abandoned the na- 
tional constitu* ' officials. The overtures, on th 
casion, eventuated in iations, of which the Rev. Mr. 
Miley was the medium'. His mission v daily unfortunate, 
for it led to greater misunderstanding : and the negotiations t< 
I in mutual charges of misconception or misrepresentat 
The history of the Confederation, such as its important 

beyond the scope of mt purpose. Others may 

■ to vindicate for its ; ngs that enduring place in 

the annals of the country, to which tb tniucntly entitled. 

but a few words can he said. 

. as the eclat of the first m sided, anA the 

busini i to assume a more routine character, the moral- 

disciples, hitherto kept in awe by the mustered strength of 
ceders and then- followers, determined to give a practical 
illustration of the sincerity of their pledge, by breaking ihe skulls 
of their opponents. On the first occasion, their onslaught 
,iis and successful. Blood was shed, and heads op 
This was deeme^ no infraction of the holy tov in the 



THE FELON'S TRACK. 73 

books of the Association ; for the body held its js without 

exercising its' undoubted prerogative of "blotting out*' the scene oi 

outrage "from the map of Ireland."' On the second occasion, the 
>f Conciliation Hall were met as they deserved^ and after 
a short skirmish, tied through the city. 

The success of the new confederacy was certain, but slow. 
But, in the same proportion as their principles obtained predomi- 
nance, the hatred of the Old Irelanders became unscrupulous and. 
implacable. Often in the house of prayer, they heard themselves 
denounced : often in the streets, they heard their names used as 
by- words of scorn. Mr. O'Connell disappeared from the scene of his 
glory, which relapsed to the guidance oi his intolerant and intem- 
perate son. Some attempts were made to force him to a recon- 
ciliation, which in public he appeared to yield to, but which in 
private he exercisd his utmost cunning to baffle. In the midst of 
this scene of distraction, Mr. O'Connell died. The news was a 
stunning blow to the nation. A great reaction, for a short time, 
ensued. Added to the other crimes of the seceders, was that of 
being O'Connell's murderers. They, on the other hand, resolved 
to treat O'Connell's memory with the greatest respect. They re- 
solved to attend his funeral procession, in deep mourning ; and 
they gave orders for expensive sashes, of Irish manufacture, which 
the members of the council were to wear. Mr. O'Brien commu- 
nicated this purpose to Mr. J. O'Connell. The answer was too 
plainly a prohibition ; and the Confederation reluctantly aban- 
doned their design. Mr. O'Connell died at Genoa, on the 15th of 
May, 1847, and was buried in Glasneven, on the 5th of August. 
His corpse, which was delayed some days in Liverpool, was 
conveyed through the streets of Dublin, during the election 
scene which resulted in the return of Mr. John Reynolds ; being 
thus made subservient to the success of the man, to whom, of all 
his followers, he was most opposed, during his life. It was a 
strange end, surely. Mr. O'Connell was buried with great pomp. 
The trustees of the Glasneven Cemetery were generous in appro- 
priating the fund at their disposal, to the purposes of the funeral ; 
but when the sincerity of the mourners' grief came to be tested, 
by the claim for a contribution to erect a suitable monument to 
the great champion of the age, it was found how hollow was their 
wo, and how lying their adulation. Daniel O'Connell is yet with- 
out a monument, save that which his own genius has raised in 
the liberalized institutions of his conntry. 

The reaction in the public mind, consequent on his death, was 
short-lived ; and the Confederation progressed rapidly, during the 
closing months of the year 1846. Although not formally acknowl- 
edged, every one saw that it was the only public body in the 
country deserving or enjoying any thing like public confidence. 



THE ITI LACK. 



niAP'rat vi. 



The split with M hbl His tr;al, < onvk tion, sen- 

• bech The - Fj d Tribune et i 

;• OF Bl] 'I kRTIN, O'DoHERTY, WlL- 

,. M i hi \-i- \ Convk noK Martin 

SPEECH Co PENl E, \ ND BPEECB OP -Mil. 

O'Dohertv Dissolution op thb» Confederation the 
Leagi b. 

At the opening of the new year, which was destined to be its 
last, the Confederation, though ye1 regarded with coldness by the 
Catholic Hierarchy, was in full career. In m< 
the respect of every educated man in the land, however wid< 

them may have differed from it in political faith. Among 
the middle classes oi all that w< re left uncorru] 

T !! into its ranks, and embraced its belief. Men began to regard 
ible every thing which enthusiasm advan th such 

e, and devoted self-sacrifice. Mr. Mitchel de- 
livered some lectures on land tenure, and the poor-law sysl -in, 
which startled thoughtful and unthinking men, alike. He had 
able and sincere effort, in the Irish council, to 
compel the landlord class to som i redeeming act of 

I will, which their own true i required, as w. 11 as 

th titry. He w- 

stolidity, and scorn. A timid and narrow measure of i 
ment, In the relation between landlord and tenant, ha pro- 

and ably supported by : :U1 ^ 

O'Loughlen; and such was the obstinat n to all amelio- 

ration, on the part of the landlords, that they a! 
amendment, y would 

milted to the milder reform pro] >n. His i 

tion was lost only by a majority of t\* ral of the five-pound 

rep al representatives, who brawled at tenant-right i i and 

the Confederation. .Mr. McGee, being included in 

the majority. 

Th •( the division produ - ' in ^Tr. 

Mi ; ' on land-tenure in E dis- 

played the hold outlines and distinctive characteristics of his prin- 
from the Irish lai rer shad 

. had eve rards vanish 

influenced an <* 

},,. turned to the people, with full confidence in their fid« lity and 

th. \ Ml further attempts to concili | • he 

! coward 
his leetun s in an »rm, in t! 

Nation, of which he was at the time editor-in-cl H is, 

which 1 • l Y ol its 

to a diff 'opinion 

sponsibl 



THE FELON'S TRACK. 75 

tor, had the sole'eontrol of tho Nation. There were not wanting 
men to take advantage of the difference, and fan th'e flame. 
Charles Dully had messages conveyed to him, to the effect that a 
rumor was abroad charging him with treachery ; and to John 
Mitchel, perhaps by the same agents of dissension, it was stated 
that he too was suspected. It is unfortunately characteristic of 
Irishmen to be suspicious: and it was the object of one of Mr. 
CVConnelPs eternal lessons to perpetuate and extend this degrad- 
ing national vice. Whether the representations made to either of 
these friends, were the result of national prejudice, or proceeded 
from a baser motive, it is scarce worth while to inquire. A sepa- 
ration ensued. Mr. Reilly adopted the resolution of his friend, Mr. 
Mitchel. Mr. McGee adhered to Mr. Duffy : and a new career and 
distinct fortunes opened to the enterprise of the four men, whose 
united efforts elevated the popularity of the Nation, to a height 
never before enjoyed by an Irish journal. 

The early differences between the two great journalists, sug- 
gested to Mr. Duffy, and to others, the necessity of drawing up a 
programme for the guidance of the Confederation. A committee 
was appointed, consisting ot several members, including all the 
leading advocates of both the policy of Mr. Duffy and that of 
Mr. Mitchel. The report was principally the production of Mr. 
Duffy. It was in part modified by others ; but Mr. Mitchel, 
Avho objected to its principle, refused to take any part in its modi- 
fication. It was afterwards submitted to the council of the Con- 
federation; and there gave rise to a long, earnest, and, to some 
extent, an angry discussion. It was under consideration for sev- 
eral successive nights, the debate lasting sometimes until three 
o'clock in the morning. The principle of the report embraced the 
belief that moral means and agencies, to effect Ireland's liberties, 
were not yet exhausted, and should be further tried ; and the 
agencies through which the experiment was to be tested, were indi- 
cated in detail. The principle'of the amendment proposed by Mr. 
Mitchel, involved a preparation for, and an appeal to arms, as the 
only resource available to the country. After a long and anxions 
debate, the question of adopting the report passed in the affir- 
mative, by a considerable majority. The details then came under 
discussion, and, paragraph by paragraph, alterations were pro- 
posed and adopted. ^The discussion on these matters was still 
more prolonged and vehement. The principle of the entire was 
questioned indirectly, by various amendments of form; but it was 
always affirmed by a majority. The report had, however, under- 
gone such modifications and alterations, that its original promoters 
lost all interest in its passing : and at the final stage, it was rejected, 
as well as I remember, without a division. At all events, it was 
rejected, and, I believe, with the concurrence of Mr. Duffy, who 
afterwards published the original draft in the Nation. 

It was on that occasion the celebrated resolutions, afterwards 
the subject of the three nights' discussion at the Rotundo, were 



70 ' li - 

;>t- 
m- I alon lis may be tl oppoi* 

- settle tl 

lutiona ( )n the Beveral 
, Mr. Duff] i in evidence 

proof of his thai they emanated lVom 

him, and thai il was through his influence the body was led to 
adopt them. Igain, il seems to have been inferred -indeed, it 
peatedly, by who boast of his ooofr 

dence - that il was o his arrest and abe >nce from the oouifc- 

of the Confederation, thai of fatal rash i ts adopt- 

the first victim; although it was his dS* 
cretion and ability that b who then obtain 

the ascendant, in check, from the beginnirj 

This is partly a statemenl of fact, and partly an inference. The 
fact is not true, and the infei fallacious. The resolutions 

were not Mr. Duffy's. On the contrary, one main object with 
those who adopted them, without to avoid the 

i of an opinion on several abstract principles, forming I 
groundwork of his report. Secondly, he exercised little or no in- 
fluence in the debate which Led to tti ion by the < Jonfeder- 
ation. Thirdly, they were warmly sustained by the influence, 
personal and otherwise, as well as by the exertion and ability 
the very men who, according to a recent contemptible sneer, "im- 
rolution." Every one of them, Air. O'Brien, Air. 
.. Mr. Dillon, Mr. O'Gorman, and myself a favor 
of them, a. )Si. MitchePs amendment. And. Anally, 
a il" this were not so. and that the n artbreak 
really involved deep culpabil cannot claim exemp- 
tion from his share of die blai 

! nbjoin the Resolul i took 

place at ten o'clock, on Saturday morning, 

rmer were adopts d, by am 1 : — ■ 

"Resolved, That inasmuch as letters, published by two meml 
this Council, have brought Into question the principles of the [rish Ooa- 

ration, and have given rise to an imputation that we are desire,: 

1 ty in this country, and to over- 

throw social order, we deem it right again to place before the public the 
following fundamental rule, as that which constitutes the b "ion 

pro]- 1( d to our fellow-countrymen, by the Irish Confederation: 

ill LB. 

••T! v formed under the title of 'The lridi Confed- 

•ion.' for the purpose of protecting our national Lobtain- 

lative independence of Ireland, by the for inion, by 

the combination of all olasaes of Irishmen, and the i i' all the 

political, Bocial, and moral influences within our reach. 

-II. That (under ircumstances) the only hope of the libera- 

in which all and creeds 



THE FELON'S TRACK. 77 

of Irishmen shall he fairly represented, and by which the interests of 
none shall be endangered. 

"III. That inasmuch as English legislation threatens all Irishmen 
with a common ruin, we entertain a confident hope their common neces- 
sities will speedily unite Irishmen in an effort to get rid of it. 

"IV. That we earnestly deprecate the expression of any sentiments 
in the Confederation, calculated to repel or alarm any section of our 
fellow-countrymen. 

" V. That we disclaim, as we have disclaimed, any intention of involv- 
ing our country in civil war. or of invading the just rights of any portion 
of its people. 

" VI. That the Confederation has not recommended, nor does it re- 
commend, resistance to the payment of rates and rents, but, on the con- 
trary, unequivocally condemns such recommendations. 

" VII. That, in protesting against the disarmment of the Irish people, 
under the coercion bill lately enacted, and in maintaining that the right 
to bear arms, and to use them for legitimate purposes, is one of the pri- 
mary attributes of liberty, wc have had no intention or desire to encour- 
age any portion of the population of this country, in the perpetration of 
crimes, such as those which have recently brought disgrace upon the 
Irish people ; and which have tended, in no trifling degree, to retard the 
success of our efforts in the cause of national freedom. 

" VIII. That to hold out to the Irish people the hope that, in this 
present broken and divided condition, they can liberate their country 
by an appeal to arms, and consequently to divert them from constitu- 
tional action, would be, in our opinion, a fatal misdirection of the public 
mind. 

" IX. That this confederation was established to obtain an Irish par- 
liament, by the combination of classes, and by the force of opinion, ex- 
ercised in constitutional operations; and that no means of a contrary 
character can be recommended or promoted through its organization, 
while its present fundamental rules remain unaltered. 

<; X. That while we deem it right thus emphatically to disavow the 
principles propounded in the publioations referred to in the resolutions, 
we at the same time equally distinctly repudiate all right to control the 
private opinions of any member of onr body, provided they do not affect 
the legal or moral responsibility of the Irish Confederation." 

AMENDMENT. 

'•That this Confederation does not feel called upon to promote either 
a condemnation or approval of any doctrines promulgated by any of its 
members, in letters, speeches, or otherwise ; because the seventh funda- 
mental rule of the Confederation expressly provides, ■ That inasmuch as 
the essential bond of union amongst us is the assertion of Ireland's right 
to an independent legislature, no member of the Irish Confederation 
shall be bound to the adoption of any principle involved in any resolu- 
tion, or promulgated by any speaker in the society, or any journal advo- 
cating its policy, to which he has not given his special consent, save only 
the foregoing fundamental principles of the society.' " 

But nothing could be more remote from the fact than the as- 
sumption, that those who supported the Rotundo resolutions were 
opposed to Mr. Mitchel in principle. If that ground were not ex- 
pressly repudiated, Mr. Mitchel would have been sustained by a 



78 TB 

majority of two to on r who exercised any in- 

flnence on the occasion emphatically to disclaim it. 

They did not or the duty of taking up anus 

ist the English government; but they paid, while we a] | 
oftheend in \ condemn the means, and precisely 

we think them the most surely calculated of any that could be 
devised, to frustrate the i ' This was the distincl 

fically, cl akably stated, on which th 

[r. Mitchel was opposed; and it was the only ground 
on which it could be opposed, with sincerity or i The 

use, therefore, which was mad- of the resolutions on Mr. Duffy's 
trial, was false and unsustainable, in every point of view. 

There is no disposition and no d< [uarrel with the Li 

defence adopted by Mr. Daily. It i freely, thai any 

fence which hisconnsel, s the ablest and mosthono 

men at the bar in Ireland, or elsewhere, recommend iusti- 

iiahle. But coupling that partoi the d vith the evid 

given on the same trial, by pensioners and parasites* of the British 
Government, and with the commentaries that afterwards appeared, 
from the pens of some of Mr. Duffy's friends, the whole was cal- 
culated to leave on the public mind aii impression, not only utter- 
ly in truth, but pernicious and fatal in its in- 
fluence on the future of the country, if indeed she is ever to have 
a future, 

This impression inevitably would be, that Mr. Duffy modelled 
and moulded the proceedings of the Confederation, at his mere 
pleasure: that Mr. Duffy was not alone averse to revolution, but 
actually lively loyal: and that, in the spirit of that Loy- 

alty, he controlled the whole body, and kept an insensate 
[uerie," which existed within it, in check ; that it was only 
when he was sent to prison this Jacquerie obtained the ascendant ; 
and that 'Mr. Dully was the victim of their intemperate folly. 
How eable all tins may be to personal vanity. Mr. Duffy 

must fe •! compelled to reject It, as audacious and un _ flat- 

tery. There is much mo; ke than the estimate of \< 

the highest in; if truth. They require that it 

should be made known and incontestably estal 
word of the above fact and in is unfounded. As to the 

nent that Mr. Duffy was made the victim of others' in 
perance, its c could be much more easily sustained. But 

it sat; . ry requirement of truth simply to state that, morally 

speaking, Mr. Duffy was equally responsible for the Late outbreak, 
with the- rilled their dv< s, an I lost their Libertj 

in the si 

The l fnited Irishman started under auspices more flattering than 
red the birth >fa rimilar enterprise. The man in Dublin, 
did not read th- first nun, pronoun* 

' From the position in wh larleton is now placed, it maj be i 



THE FELON'S TRACK. 79 

bigot or a fool. Every word struck, with the force and tenor of 
lightning. So great was the sale of the first number, that the 

pt busy for three days and nights. When the 
second was announced, a guard of police was necessary to keep 

order and peace among the news-venders, around the office door. 
In every corner of the island, the influence of the United Irishman 
was instant and simultaneous. The letters to the Ulster farmers 
caused a sensation as universal and profound, as the letters to 
Lord Clarendon excited sentiments of wonder and alarm. Thomas 
Devin Reilly's powers too, never before tested in this range of liter- 
ature, astonished even the warmest admirers of his genius. The 
journal at once attained a standard of eminence, potitical, literary, 
and poetical, never accorded to a production of the kind, published 
in Ireland. For the days in which they Avere written, the songs 
and essays of Thomas Davis contained greater depth, and a 
holier purpose. They seened to flow, too, from a diviner inspira- 
tion ; were of a wider, calmer, and more generous scope. But the 
times were different ; and it was as if the spirit of fire, burning at 
the bases of man's social hopes, throughout Europe, breathed its 
prophetic glow on the heart of John Mitchel, conscious that he, of 
all men, in a prostrate land, conld find it befitting utterance. It 
must not be omitted, that the muse of Mary, of Eva, and of poor ■ 
Clarence Mangan, considerably enhanced the high estimate of the 
United Irishman. 

In the presence of such an oracle of defiance and vengeance, 
the Government for awhile stood aghast. But the urgency of the 
times admitted of no temporising policy. Messrs. O'Brien, Meagher, 
and Mitchel, were selected for prosecution; but the latter was 
honored with a double suit— one for an article, and the other for 
a speech. The morning they were called upon to enter into secu- 
rity, all Dublin was startled, as if by a spell. The streets were 
crowded by a dense and anxious mass of men. The police-office 
in a short time became inaccessible. Mr. O'Connell's two sons, and 
tbe staff of the old Association, anticipated the crowd, and occu- 
pied the seats around the bench. When Mr. O'Brien was called 
on, the O'Connells offered to become his security. The fact was 
trumpeted by the journals, yet living on the garbage of Conciliation 
Hall. But the oftV, if sincere, might then be productive of important 
consequences. It was not sincere ; a fact sufficiently attested by the 
Messrs. O'Connells' necessary consciousness that Mr. O'Brien 
would not come without his bail. In truth, it was known to all 
Dublin, that he even found a difficulty in reconciling the conflict- 
ing claims of several gentlemen who aspired to that honor. So it 
was too with Mr. Meagher and Mr. Mitchel. All those gentlemen 
hurried to tender their services, as soon as they heard that bail 
would be required, the Messrs. O'Connell alone selecting the public 
court for the display of their magnanimity. It is needless to add 
that their courtesy was declined ; and they must have left the po- 
lice-office that day in the wake of the crowd, oppressed with the 



9Q 'J BE I': 

conviction thai the confidence of the [rish , | 1 for- 

from tin ii ho 

Tii: ition marked a □ h in the Irish movement 

! nined at once to meet it boldly to extenuate nothing, 

toretracl nothing to take advantage of no legal subterfuge ; but 
>mptly, openly, and fully. Mr. O'Brien at first 
i defended by counsel. He was, with great difficulty, 
prevailed upon to change his determination; and, when it was 
Known that he was will in sept professional assistanc 

twenty of the ablest young men at the bar, volunteered their 
services; and the traversers saw arrayed at their side an amount 
of professional ability and chivalry, su< is never united on 

such an occasion. The most ; pectable solicitors in the profes- 
sion, too, contended for the honor of being their i attor- 
neys. 'Idi.- juries disagreed m both and the d 
against Mitchel lapsed into that more formidable prosecution 
which sealed his fate. 

Mitchel's arrest, under the i felony act, w;is net unex- 

pected. But as soon as it was ascertained that lie was lod. 

jato. his I the entire care of his co-coni 

The question at o \e whether, if a rescu attempted, 

there w< re resources to ensure even a decent stand. It v. 
certained that the supply of arms and ammunition was seamy and 
imperfect, and the supply of food still scantier. The people had 
been decimated by three years of famine: and no want could he 
appalling than the want of food. On inquiry, it was found 
that there was not provision for t 1 . a in the capital, which 

depended on daily arrivals for its daily bread. Throughout the 
country, the supply was even i us. TheGovern 

hail in their own hands the uncontrolled power of preventing the 
arrival of a single n; and. if so minded, con 

the island in ;i fortnight, *upp people v 

j)Ossi s< themselves of all I c >untry. 

Th< some of ih influenced the 

on of .Mr. Mitch \\ nether the opinion were or 

were not a correct on •. they acted ^i\ the conviction that, under 

all the circum any attempt I \ him would eventuate 

tn Bt row. Which WOUld entail not i nly defeat, but 
If they COUld hilt persuade ihomselves that a Mow might he BtTUCk, 
even though defeat and death followed, they most certainly would 

attempted it. It ierally understood, ow the day be- 

fore the trial, that the idea of b i abandoned; and the 

trial commenced, amidst gloomy presentiments and blighted hopes. 
After hours of quibbling and legal fencing, a jury was selected, by 
the crown, to convict, from the moment they went through the. 
process of swearing to give a true verdict, John 

Mitchel's late was sealed. 

I pass "\< i- the details, and come to the last act in the infa- 
mous drama, called his trial. 




^ 





THE FELON'S TRACK. gj 

The following account of the closing scene is not mine. 
Feeling inadequate to describe a scene of which even a distant 
recollection is exciting, I asked a friend who felt the deepest 
interest in the trial, to describe it. With what he has written I 
entirely agree, save one sentence. He says that it was owing to 
the action of the council of the Confederation John Mitchel's per- 
sonal friends were allowed to be assaulted, with impunity, by the 
police. I do not think so. With respect to the decision of the 
council, I feel bound to assume my share of its responsibility, 
although I yielded to it with the utmost reluctance and regret. 

On the morning of Saturday, the 27th May, 1849, the court was 
crowded to a greater excess than usual, even in those days. 
About the empty dock were the personal friends of Mr. Mitchel, 
those who agreed with him, and those who did not. A little re- 
tired on either side sat John Martin and John Kenyon — in front 
were William H. Mitchel, brother of the prisoner, and his only 
relative in court, T. Devin Reilly, Thomas F. Meagher, John B. 
Dillon, Michael Doheny, Richard O'Gorman, Martin O'Flaherty 
(Mr. Mitchel's attorney), Charles O'Hara, and others whom we 
have forgotten. 

A little in advance, on the left of the dock, were the stalls 
reserved during the sham trial, for the counsel for the defence. As 
yet they were only occupied by the junior advocates, Sir Coleman 
O'Loghlen and John O'Hagan. The benches at the right of the dock, 
and nearer to the bench, reserved for the Attorney-General and his 
retainers, were vacant. The Sheriff and his white stick occupied 
their box, and the galleries to the right and left were crowded with 
jurymen — those who " had done their business,'' and those who 
were eager for employment to do more. The bench of the judges 
held two empty chairs. And police officers and other mercenaries, 
dotted thickly over the court, " concluded and set off the arrange- 
ments." 

An old man, low of stature, and stooped, passed through a side 
door, and walked slowly and decrepidly into the benches of the 
prisoner's counsel. W r hispers, and then applause from the galle- 
ries, were heard and passed by him unheeded. Quietly and un- 
ostentatiously he moved to his seat— the junior advocates, and all 
the confederates in the body of the court, rising and bowing to him 
in silence. It was the solitary Republican of the United Irish 
day, Robert Holmes, coming to discharge his last duty to the great 
Republican of a younger century. 

The applause of the galleries was hushed by the crier's voice — 
" Silence ! take off your hats ;" and on the right stalked in the 
gaunt figure of James Henry Monaghan. Triumph, animosity, and 
fear marked his night-bird face. Even yet it was hoped the great 
opponent of his " government," whom by rascality alone he could 
convict, would strike his colors, and sue for mercy. Even yet it 
was feared that a rescue would be attempted. How possible the 
6 



2 THE FELON'S TRACK 

former was, the reader may judge. The latter was rendered im- 
possible by the, council of the Confederation, and the lew who 
cherished the design in the council's despite, had attempted an 

tr/untc the night previous, and were beaten and placed hois de 

bat As Monaghtn and his rel red, the red face of 

Lefrov oozed through the beach curtains, and followed by the pale 

Moor, " the court was seated." 

As yet the dock was empty, save that the jailor of Newgate and 
his deputy occupied each 1 corner. 
There was dead silence. 

k * Jailor, pot forward John Mitchcl,'' said the official, whose 
duty is to in. ike such orders. 

A grating of bolts — a rustling of chains, were heard behind. 
The low door-way at the back of the dock opened, and between 
turnkeys Mitchel entered. 

Ascending the steps to the front of the dock, and lifting, as he 
advanced, the glazed dark cap he wore during hi^ imprisonment, 
as gracefully as if he entered a drawing-room, he took his stand 
in a firm but easy attitude. His appearan :e was i qu h emoved 
from bravado and fear. His features, usually placid and pale, had 
a rigid clearness about them that day, w-> can never forget. They 
seemed, from their transparency and firmness, like some won- 
drous imagination of the artist's chisel, in which the marble, 
f; ncying itself human, had begun to breathe. The eye was calm 
and bright — the mouth, the feature round which danger loves to 
play, though easy, motionless, and with lips apart, had about it an 
air of immobility and quiet scorn, which was not the effect of 
muscular action, but of nature in repose. And in his whole 
appearance, features, attitude and look, there was a conscious 
piidc and superiority over his opponents, which, though unpre- 
suming and urbane, seemed to speak louder than words — u I am 
the victor here to-day." 

He saluted quietly those friends about the dock he had not that 
day seen, conversing with one or two, and bowing to those at a 
distance. He then directed his eyes to the court. 

After some preliminary forms, Baron Lefroy commenced opera- 
tions, by stating that he had called on the case the first that 
morning, in order to give time for any application to be made in 
court by, or on behalf of, the prisoner of the crown. 

an there was a silence of some minutes. The judges looked 
at each other inquiringly. The crown prosecutor watched the 
prisoner's counsel. I pon the prisoner himself all other eyes were 

fixed. 

There was no reply. 

u Business proceeded. 5 ' The « Clerk of the Crown » rising to 
ask the usual question—" if Mr. Mii.hr] had anything to say why 

judgment should not be passed upon him >" 

^ I favt," he answered and after a momentary look at judg 

jury-box, and sheriff, he slowly continued.— 41 I have I ) -ay That 



THE FELON'S TRACK. 83 

I have been tried by a packed jury — by the jury of a partisan 
sheriff — by a jury not empanelled, even according to the law of 
England. I have been found guilty by a packed jury obtained by 
a juggle — a jury not empanelled by a sheriff, but by a juggler." 

Here he was interrupted by the sheriif rising, and, in high indig- 
nation, claiming the protection of the court. 

" That is the reason," continued Mitch el, " that is the reason 
why I object to the sentence being passed on me." 

u That imputation," interrupted Lefroy, " upon the conduct of 
the sheriff I must pronounce to be most unwarranted and un- 
founded." And this discriminating judge continued to show that 
the imputation was so, — concluding with the assertion that the 
sheriff " had done his duty in the case." Then without pausing, 
he jproceeded to the usual lecture, full of the hypocritical cant with 
which British judges usually preface their awards, however infa- 
mous. He alluded to the personal condition of Mr. Mitchel, and 
expressed his regrets that a person of such merits should b e in 
such circumstances. Then having dilated on the enormity of the 
offence, he assured Mr. Mitchel that he had been found guilty of 
many heinous charges against the Queen and the Imperial Crown, 
and among others, of feloniously intending to levy war upon that 
gentlewoman, and that the evidence was furnished by the prison- 
er's self. " How, therefore," he continued, "you think yourself 
justified in calling it the verdict of a packed jury, and thus imput- 
ing perjury to twelve of your countrymen — deliberate and w 7 illful 
perjury—" 

11 No," interrupted the prisoner, " I did not impute perjury to the 

jury-" 

" I understood," said the speaker on the bench, " that you had 

stated, in arrest of judgment, that you had been found guilty by a 

packed jury." 

" I did," was the reply. 

Robert Holmes rose, during the judge's speech, and said, " My 
lords, with the greatest respect, what I said was, that though he 
might be statutably guilty, he was not, in my opinion, morally 
guilty. I repeat that opinion now." 

This avowal, so boldly and firmly made by the veteran Republi- 
can, was answered by all the audience, not pensioned, with plau- 
dits. 

Baron Lefroy would say no more on that point, only that the 
court could not acquiesce in a line of defence " which appeared 
to it very little short of, or amounting to, as objectionable matter 
as that for whicn the prisoner had been found guilty." 

" I," replied tne aged advocate, "I am answerable for that un- 
der your act of Parliament." 

Loud applause followed. " Are there no policemen in court ?'* 
shouted Baron Lefroy. The High Sheriff " had given strict 
orders," he said, " to have all removed who would interrupt." 
" Make prisoners of them,"said the judge. " I wish you to under- 



84 



I Hi: l'KLON'S TRACK. 



stand," he continued, still excited, and addressing Mr. Mitcbel, who 
during these epis< tood unmoved, "that we have with the 

utmost anxiety, and with a view to come to a decision upon the 
measure of punishment which it would be our duty to unpof 
oued the passing of sentence on you until this morning." 
n, having stated the various considerations which induced him 
to believe that the punishmenl Bhould be lenient, and the equally 
various considerations which induced him to believe the contrary, 
Lefroy concluded as follows: "We had to consider all this— to 
l.x.k at the magnitude of the crime, and to look also at the consid- 
eration, that if this were not the first case brought under the act, 
our duty might have obliged us to carry out the penalty it awards 

to the utmost extent; but, taking into consideration, that this is 
the first conviction under the act— though the offence ha- been as 
clearly proved as any offence under the ad could he — the sentence 
of the court is, that you he transported beyond the seas lor the 
term <>f fourteen \ ears." 

The listeners to the hypocritical sentence which concluded Le- 
froy's speech, heard the "sentence with astonishment and indigna- 
tion. Mr. Mitchel merely asked, apparently without any astonish- 
ment, if he might now address some remarks to the court. The 
leave asked was granted, and a silence still as death awaited the 
prisoner. 

"The law," he said, in his usual manly tone, and unexcited 
manner, " the law has now done its part, and the Queen ot Eng- 
land, her crown and government m Ireland are now secun — 
' pursuant to act ot* Parliament.' 1 have done my part, also. 
Three months ago, 1 promised Lord Clarendon, and his govern- 
ment m this country, that I would provoke him into his 'courts of 
justice.' as places of this kind. are called, and that I would force 
him publicly and notoriously to pack a jury against me to convict 
me, or else that I would walk out a free man from this dock to 
meet him in another field. 

■ My l-'icl, I knew I was setting my life on that cast; but I 
warned him that, in either case, the victory would be with me; 
and the victory is with me. Neither the jury, nor the judges, nor 
any other man in this court, presumes to imagine that it is a crim- 
inal who stands in this dock." 

He was interrupted with the plaudits of the auditory; and again 
continued : 

" I have kept my word. I have shown what the law is made of 
in Ireland. I have shown that her majesty's government BUStainS 
itself in Ireland by packed juries, by partisan judges, by perjured 

sheriffs » 

Here he was interrupted by Lefroy, who said, " the court could 
not sit there to hear him arraign the jurors of the country, the 
sheriffs of the country, the administration of justice, the tenure by 
which the crown of England holds that country. The trial was 
over. Everything the prisoner had to say previous to the judg- 






THE FELON'S TRACK. 85 

"merit, the court was ready to hear, and did hear. They could not 
suffer him (Mr. Mitchel) to stand at that bar to repeat, very nearly, 
a repetition of the offence for which he had been sentenced." 

" I will not say," Mr. Mitchel continued, " anything more of 
that kind. But I say this—" 

Lefroy again interrupted him, to the effect that, within certain 
limits the prisoner might proceed. 

u I have acted," he then said, " I have acted all through this 
business, from the first, under a strong sense of duty. I do not 
regret anything I have done, and I believe that the course which I 
have opened is only commenced. The Roman," he continued in 
one of those bursts of eloquence, with which he used to electrify 
men, stretching forth his clenched hand and arm, Cl the Roman 
who saw his hand burning to ashes before the tyrant, promised 
that three hundred should follow out his enterprise. Can I not 
promise for one, for two, for three, aye for hundreds V 9 

Here he pointed to his friends, Reilly, Martin, and Meagher. 
A burst of wild enthusiasm followed — 

" Officer ! officer ! remove Mr. Mitchel," was heard from 
Lefroy. A rush was made on the dock, and the foremost ranks 
sprung from the galleries, with outstretched arms to vow 
with him too. The judges rushed in terror from the benches 
— the turnkeys seized the hero, and in a scene of wild con- 
fusion he half walked, and w T as half forced through the low, 
dark door-way in the rear, waving his hand in a quiet fare- 
well. The bolts grated, the gate slammed, and he was seen 
no more. 

Men stood in affright, and looked in each others' faces wonder- 
ingly. They had seen a Roman sacrifice in this modern world, 

and they were mute. 

***** 

An hour elapsed — the excited crowd had passed away ; and the 
partisan judges, nervous and ill at ease, ventured upon the bench 
again. 

They were seated, and seemed to be settling down to get 
through <i business" as well as they could, when Mr. Holmes, 
whose defence of Mr. Mitchel had been so offensive to them, rose. 
" My lords," he said, " I think I had a perfect right to use the 
language I did yesterday. I wish now to state that what I said 
yesterday as an advocate, I adopt to-day, as my own opinion. I 
here avow all I have said ; and, perhaps, under this late act of par- 
liament, her Majesty's Attorney-General, if I have violated the 
law, may think it his duty to proceed against me in that way. But 
if I have violated the law in anything I said, I must, with great 
respect to the Court, assert that I had a perfect right to state what 
I stated ; and now I say in deliberation, that the sentiments I ex- 
pressed with respect to England, and her treatment of this country, 
are my sentiments, and I here openly avow them. The Attorney- 
General is present — I retract nothing — these are my well judged 



8(J THE FELONS TRACK. 

sentiments — these are my opinions, as to the relative position of 
[ jland and Ireland, and if I haw, as you seem to insinuate, 

violated the law by stating those opinions, I now deliberately do 
bo again. Lei ber Majesty's Attorney-General do his duty to his 
rnrhent, I have done mine to my country." 

Such was the conclusion of the trial of John Mitchel. The bro- 
ther in-law and friend of Robert Emmett, the republican of our 

fathers' days, came to attest the justice of the republican of our 

own, and to vie with him in defying and scorning the infamous 
law s of England. 

It is needless to say, that the EJnglish officials did not dare 
accept the challenge SO nobly and defiantly flung down before 
the ?ery dock whence one victim had just been borne. 

I feel tempted to add a word of a scene that intervened, in 
which I took a part. When the sheriff recovered his self-posses- 
sion, he ordered several to be arrested ; among others, Mr. iMeagh- 
er. The officer who seized him acted rudely and violently, 
which led to further confusion, and the exchange of blows. At 
last Mr. Meagher and myself were secured and removed to prison. 
When order was restored, we were brought out before the court, 
and asked for an expression of regret. I answered, that having 
heard Mr. Mitchel express, in the dock, sentiments in which I en- 
tirely concurred, I took immediate occasion to mark my most dis- 
tinct and emphatic approval. In doing this I had no intention o 
an affront to the court. But as to retract, or regret, no punish- 
ment, in the power of that or any other court to inflict, would com- 
pel me to do either one or the other. 

Mr. Meagher repeated the same thing. We were then repri- 
manded and sent back. Soon after we were recalled, and 
upon motion of Mr. Dillon, and Sir Coleman (TLoughlin, on be- 
half of Mr. Meagher, who stated that he would express his regret 
for the contempt of court, but nothing else, we were both re- 
leased, although I persisted in refusing even to join in the expres- 
sion of regret made for but not by Mr. Meagher. 

On the same day on which the above scene took place, John 
Mitchel was borne in irons from the land of his love, the wife of 
his bosom, and the children of his heart. 

Immediately after, the council of the confederation was reduced 
to twenty-one ; and everything wore a sterner aspect, as if, whether 
they willed it or no, an imperious obligation required fulfilment at 
their hands. The slight disunion, which the fate of John Mitchel 
those who favored and opposed his rescue, quickly 
disappeared, and both parties only emulated each other in the ac- 
tivity and earnestness of preparation. Among the agencies of pro- 
gress, i I by the crisis, were two now journals — "The Felon," 
edited by .John Martin, and T. D. Reilly, assisted by Mr. Brenan, 
and the " Tribune," edited by Richard Dalton Williams, and 

Kevin [zod O'Doherty, of which Mr. Savage and Dr. Antisell were 

joint | roprietors, and to which they were joint contributors, with 



THE FELON'S TRACK. 87 

S. J. Meany and myself. The great object of the first was to follow 
in the footsteps of the United Irishman, and that of the latter was to 
urge the same, principles, upon a more republican basis. The Felon 
soon acquired additional interest from the daring principles and 
extraordinary ability of Mr. James F. Lalor, who had become a 
joint contributor with the recognized editors. Of the Tribune, it 
would not become me to speak ; perhaps no more is needed, than 
that in the race to doom it was hot outsped. 

On the 8th of July, John Martin surrendered. Messrs. 
Duffy and O'Doherty were arrested on the same evening, and Mr. 
Williams on the following morning. 

Although the trials that followed did not take place until long 
after the events, which form the principal subject of this narrative, 
a brief account of them will not be inappropriate here. 

Mr. O'Doherty was the first placed on his trial. The jury was of 
the stamp usual in such cases in Ireland. But a point of great im- 
portance was raised by his counsel, as to the publisher's intention 
to commit the felony, which they insisted should be proved, to 
bring his case within the provision of the. treason felony act. The 
court, composed of Chief Baron Pigot and Baron Pennefather, gave 
an opinion favorable to this construction, and the jury refused to con- 
vict, for which the Castle Organ did not hesitate to pronounce them 
perjurors. Every one supposed and rejoiced that Mr. O'Doherty 
had escaped ; but the vengeance of the Attorney-General was far 
from satisfied, and he had ample satisfaction on a future day. 

On the 16th of August, John Martin was placed at the bar, be- 
fore the same judges. The instincts of the official, exasperated 
by defeat, exercised a keener vigilance in selecting a jury ; and 
one was finally sworn that did not disappoint his sagacity. They 
found a verdict of guilty without hesitation ; but recommended the 
prisoner to mercy, which in that case was a distinct contradiction 
of their oaths. The composition of the jury, and the character of 
the prosecution, will be best understood by a perusal of the sub- 
joined speech. No higher proof could be given of his purity of 
purpose, elevation of sentiment, and goodness of heart. On the 
19th of August he was called up to receive sentence. He stood in 
the spot, hallowed by the footprints of Robert Emmet, and John 
Mitchel ; nor was the heart he brought to the same sacrifice less wor- 
thy than theirs. Upon his benevolent countenance, or stout heart, 
the appliances of terror around him had no effect. He stood unmov- 
ed and unawed, in the glorious consciousness that he had fulfilled 
his duty to his friend and to his country. 

When asked what he had to say why sentence should not be 
passed upon him, he replied : 

" My Lords : — I have no imputation to cast upon the bench, 
neither have I anything of unfairness toward myself to charge the 
jury with. I think the judges desired to do their duty fairly, as 



88 Tin: felov.s nuOK. 

upright judges and men, and that the twelve men who were put 
into the box, not to try, hut to convict me, voted honestly accord- 
ing to then- prejudices. I have no personal enmity against the 
sheriff, sub-sheriff, or any other gentleman connected with the ar- 
rangements of the jury panel, nor against the Attorney-General, or 
ther person engaged in the proceedings called my trial. But, 
mv lords, I consider / have not yet been tried ! There have been 
certain formalities carried on here lor three days, hut I hurt' not been 
put upon /ni/ country, (iccording to tic constitution said to exist in 
let land ! 

" Twelve of my countrymen, ' indifferently chosen,' have not 
been put into the jury-box to try me, hut twelve men, who, I be- 
In sve, have been selected by the parties who represent the crown, 
for the purpose of convicting, and not of trying me. 

M Every person knows that what I have stated is the fact ; and I 
would represent to the judges, most respectfully, that they, as hon- 
orable judges, and as upright citizens, ought to see that the admin- 
istration of justice, in this country, is above suspicion. I have 
nothing more to say with regard to the trial ; but I would be thank- 
ful to the court for permission to say a few words after sentence is 
passed." 

Chief Baron and Baron Pennefather. " No. We cannot hear 
anything from you after sentence is pronounced". 

" Then, my lords, permit me to say, that admitting the narrow and 
confined constitutional doctrines, which \ have heard preached in 
this court, to be right, I am not guilty of the charge according to this 
act ! In the article of mine, on which the jury framed their ver- 
dict, which was written in prison, and published in the last num- 
ber of my paper, what I desired to do was this, to advise and en- 
courage my countrymen to keep their arms ; because that is their 
inalienable right, which no act of Parliament, no proclamation can 
take away from them. It is, I repeat, their inalienable right. I 
advised them to keep their arms; and further, I advised them to 
use their arms in their own defence against all assailants — even as- 
sailants that might come to attack them unconstitutionally, and im- 
properly, using the Queen's name as their sanction. 

" My object in all my proceeding has been simply to establish the 

independence of Ireland for the benefit of all the people of Ireland 

— noblemen, clergymen, judges, professional men — in fact, all 

Irishmen. I Bought that object first, because I thought it was our 
right ; because I thought, and think still, national independence 
was tin- right of the people of this country. And Secondly, 1 ad- 
mit, that being a man who loves retirement, 1 never would have 
engaged in politics did I not think it necessary to do all in my 

r to make an end of the horrible scenes the country presents — 
the pauperism and starvation, and Clime, and vice, and the hatred 
of all classes against each other, I thought there should be an end 



THE FELON'S TRACK. 89 

to that horrible system, which while it lasted, gave me no peace of 
mind, for I could not enjoy anything in my country, so long as I saw 
my countrymen forced to be vicious, forced to hate each other, and 
degraded to the level of paupers and brutes. This is the reason I 
engaged in politics. 

" I acknowledge, as the solicitor-general has said, that I was but a 
weak assailant of the English power. I am not a good writer, and 
I am no orator. I had only two weeks experience in conducting 
a newspaper until I was put into jail. But I am satisfied to direct 
the attention of my countrymen to everything I have ever written, 
and to rest my character on a fair examination of what I have put 
forward as my opinions. I shall say nothing in vindication of my mo- 
tives but this, that every fair and honest man, no matter how pre- 
judiced he may be, if he calmly considers what I have written and 
said, will be satisfied that my motives were pure and honorable. I 
have nothing more to say." 

The Chief Baron, in passing sentence, alluded to the jury's 
" recommendation to mercy." 

Mr. Martin. " I can not condescend to accept mercy where I 
believe I have been morally right. I want justice, not mercy." 

He was then sentenced to ten years' transportation. 

On two successive occasions, the jury empanelled by the gov- 
ernment, and carefully packed to serve their end, refused to convict 
Mr. O'Doherty. He was placed on his trial a third time, on the 
30th of October, prosecuted with the same enduring malignity, and 
a verdict of guilty, suspected to be the result of a fraud practiced 
on the jury, was returned. Mr. Williams, who was joint proprie- 
tor of the Tribune, and jointly responsible, was acquitted, after a 
protracted trial on the 3d of November, the jury being of opinion 
that although the articles given in evidence were felonious, there 
was no proof to satisfy them that the proprietors, w T hen publishing 
them, did so with a felonious intent. This distinction arose in con- 
sequence of the fair and candid construction of the felony act, given 
by Chief Baron Pigot and Baron Pennefather, on Mr. O'Doherty's 
first trial, to the effect that the jury should be satisfied of the pub- 
lisher's felonious intent ; a construction which the present Judges 
Crampton and Torrens would not dare to contradict. 

Notwithstanding this, just as the words, not guilty, were pro- 
nounced by the jury, in Mr. Williams' case, despite the most fla- 
grant and audacious bullying of the bench, Mr. O'Doherty was 
called up for judgment. Among all the martyr-band whom this 
year consigned to doom, not one behaved himself with truer or 
nobler heroism ; not one, either, whose fate commands a deeper 
sympathy. Under thirty years of age, largely gifted, with most 
respectable connections, a high place in society, brilliant prospects, 
and so unostentatious in his enthusiasm, that it was only then his 
country heard of his devotion, and learned his worth ; there he 



00 Till: FELON'S TRACK. 

stood with as lofty consciousness and as Inave a heart as ever eon- 
crated the scaffold or the battle-plain. 

Judge Crampton pronounced the sentence. Nature has supplied 
his lordship with characteristics of countenance admirably befit- 
hngsuch a scene. Had he been only elevated to the kindred 

&Ce o! actual executioner, he would have heen spared the expense 
ft mask; lor without it, no one could look into his eyes, or 
irse he was teeming with somtMrnion and regret, which jointly 

resulted m a Bentence of transportation lor ti-.n miaks. Mv. 
Doherty, who stood unmoved, alter a lew preliminary nUerva- 

tions in ivlerence to the unfairness of his trial, spoke as follows: 

Mit D-Doiikrty,— "I would feel much obliged if your lordship 
•uld permit me to mention a few more words with reference to 
mj motives throughout this affair. I had but one object and pur- 
pose in view. I did feci deeply for the sufferings and privations 
endured by my fellow-countrymen. I did wish, by all means, con- 
sistent with a manly and honorable resistance, to'assist in putting 
an end to that suffering. It is very true, and I will confess it, that 
1 desired an open resistance of the people to that goveanment, 
Which, in my judgment, entailed these suHerimrs upon them. J have 
used the words open and honorable resistance in order that I might 
refer to one of the articles brought in evidence against me, in whn h 
the writer suggests such things as flinging burning hoops on the 
soldiery. My lords, these are no sentiments of mine. I did not 
write that article. I did not see it or know of it until I read it 
When published m the paper. But I did not bring the writer of it 
hereon the table. Why? I knew that if I were to do so, it 
would be only bantling him over at the court-house doors to what 
one ot the witnesses has very properly called the fangs of the At- 
torney-General. With respect to myself J have no fears. I trust 
i will be enabled to bear my sentence with all the forbearance due 
to what I believe to be the opinion of twelve conscientious enemies 
to me, and I will bear with due patience the wrath of the govern- 
ment whose mouthpiece they were; but I will never cease to de- 
plore the destiny that gave me birth in this unhappy country, and 
compelled me, as an Irishman, to receive at your hands a felon's 
doom for discharging what I conceived, and what I still conceive, 
to be my duty." 

Mr. Duffy's trial was postponed. His final escape is known to 
most of my readers; but as 1 cannot approve of the character of 
his (defence, 1 prefer saying no more ..fit in this place. 

here m edful to refer to myself, a topic always disagreeable 

there, but painfully so on this occasion to me. * The proposal 

to form a league with the remaining members of the association, 

lated with certain gentlemen, among whom the Rev. .Mr. 

M\\r\ held a prominent place, who personalis" waited on -Mr. 

Ihicn to testily their abhorrence of the outrages ottered to him in 



TIIE FELON'S TRACK. 91 

Limerick. Some very questionable politicians, who watched with 
the eye of traffic the current of public opinion, and sought to make 
the same profit of the reflux they had formerly made of its unim- 
peded tide, attended on those occasions. Others, of* purer mo- 
tives, and loftier patriotism, joined in these interviews, and contriv- 
ed to have them repeated. Among these were the poet, Samuel 
Ferguson, and Richard Ireland, two recent and brilliant converts to 
the cause of nationality. There were others, whom I need not 
name, of equally unquestionable purity. But for several weeks, 
while these interviews were held, there was no exact delegation 
from either the confederation or association. I am not, indeed, 
aware, whether any such delegation was ever formally given or as- 
sumed. However, negotiations proceeded, and though they were 
never brought to a satisfactory adjustment, the dissolution of the 
confederation was formally proposed and adopted. On that day 
the greatest hope of Ireland perished. 

The generosity of the suicide on the part of the confederation, 
was met by a new chicane. Though every member, whose charac- 
ter and talents could for a moment redeem the deformity, dulness, 
and decrepitude of the repeal association, had passed from its 
ranks, and enrolled themselves in the new league, it resolved to 
struggle on, acting as a check and a stain by its anility and crook- 
edness, on the rising hopes of the country. During the discus- 
sions that led to the formation of the league, it w 7 as emphatically 
announced by certain members of the confederation, that, on no 
ground and for no purpose would they abjure one principle they 
ever announced. Above all, they avowed their purpose to urge 
on the country the duty of armed resistance whenever its success 
appeared probable. The government heard of these avowals, and 
the time spent in captious discussions about moral nonentities and 
legal quibbles, w r hen the stake was a nation's death or life, w r as 
diligently employed by the government, in accumulating means of 
defence. 

The motives of the principal promoters of the league are by no 
means questioned here. On the contrary, it is freely admitted their 
convictions were as sincere as they were fatal. The due apprecia- 
tion of that movement requires that a few leading facts and infer- 
ences upon which it was based, should be calmly considered. The 
first and most important is, the great change which had taken place 
in the feelings of the country. The vast majority of the thinking 
population were ranged at the side of the confederation. So, too, 
was that of the people of the rural districts. The intellectual 
leaders of the great Protestant party had actually identified them- 
selves with it, and a reconciliation with the entire body of the Orange- 
men had been nearly effected. Most of the men whose integrity 
and ability had preserved the lingering existence of the associa- 
tion, openly avow r ed their approval of its principles, and such of 
them whose hearts were not mere empty sounds, would join its 
members at a crisis. 



92 Till! PELOlPfl TRACK. 

Thus stood the facts. The considerations in favor of the junc- 
tion were these: certain men of influence, who, contrary to their 
own convictions, adhered to the association, in the commencement 
through fear, and still adhered to it through an unintelligible hank- 
ering after consistency, pressed for an opportunity where they 
might abandon their former associates without the appearance of 

abandoning their old principles. There were Others who followed 
a middle course, and were always with the greater crowd, and the 
more intense enthusiasm, who demanded the same means of es- 
cape. 

There was a consideration of some weight which no doubt in- 
fluenced the decision of the confederates. It was this : the Roman 
Catholic clergymen had given unmitigated opposition to the con- 
federation. Their hostility had been the most formidable obstacle 
in its way ; and it was assumed that the presence of some leading 
churchmen among the confederates, would remove the distrust 
which the former opposition of the priesthood had mainly tended 
to create. 

These were the chief considerations at the affirmative side. On 
a less pressing occasion, and at a former period, they may be for- 
cible, nay, even conclusive. But the issue had been then narrowed 
to one of actual force. John Mitchel was transported, and the 
most trusted of his comrades had pledged their lives to redeem 
their brother felon at any cost. Every consideration connected 
with the question should be examined and determined on in refer- 
ence to that position and that pledge. Tested by them, the first 
above presented would thus resolve itself; either these men whose 
characteristic had been indecision, were sincere in seeking for an 
opportunity to redeem their patriotism by their blood, or they were 
not. If they were, they would never be restrained by the misera- 
ble tear of being charged with inconsistency. If they were not, 
the cause would be cursed by their adhesion. The Same argument 
would apply to the priesthood with still more imperious force; such 
oi them as were actually sincere would be found at their post at 
the hour of trial, in obedience to no form, but influenced by their 
own consciousness. Such of them as were insincere would be 
true to no obligation imposed by conventionality. Untrue to their 
convictions, they could not be faithful to their words. And 
finally — an argument which appears unanswerable and insuperable 
— Mr. John O'Connell, and his immediate followers, had so 

solemnly abjured, denounced, and cursed the principles of the 

great majority with whom they were asked to league, that they 

could not comply without such a debasement of character as to 

d the scorn of all men, not only to themselves, but all those 

with whom they were united; It could not fail to strike any ordi- 

erver, that materials so incongruous and repulsive were 

incapable of cohesion | and the consequence mibt be the distrust of 
the more ardent of their followers at both sides. 

These Were my opinions. I pressed them at the time as 



THE FELON'S TRACK ; 93 

strongly as I could, and perhaps more urgently than I ought. 
But I was absent from Dublin, and my remonstrances were vain. 
I would have retired in despair had I not been too deeply engaged. 
The Rev. John Kenyon did actually retire, influenced by the same 
motives which I refused to yield to, solely because retirement 
would brand me with an imputation of cowardice, which no expla- 
nation could ever efface. I refused all connection with the League, 
but continued to act in concert with my confederates, in establish- 
ing clubs, and training the manhood of the country for the stern 
trial before it. My position rendered bold, undisguised, and expli- 
cit language indispensable. This led to prosecution and arrest. 
The charge was supposed to be high treason, and Mr. Richard 
O'Gorman wrote to me to inquire what I wished to have done in 
my behalf. My answer was a distinct refusal to accept any aid 
from a body whose constitution I could not approve. This cir- 
cumstance is mentioned, not because it deserves distinct attention, 
or even a place in this narrative, but to prove that my objections 
to the dissolution of the confederation, and my feeling that it was 
a fatal step, are not of recent growth, or founded on ex-post facto 
opinions. I feel bound to add, however, that I stood alone, or 
almost alone, as far as I have been able to hear. I dismiss the 
subject now, anxious to claim no praise, and ready to submit to 
the blame that may attach to my course, such as it was. I am 
only desirous, that in w T hatever memory of me my country may 
preserve, the truth alone should determine the public estimation of 
my conduct and character. 

The league met, resolutions were adopted, and speeches made, 
that meant nothing. New men came together, looked each other 
in the face, and turned away as if at the heart of each there 
was something with which he could not trust the other. There 
was a short, feeble, and false flourish, and no more. Those who 
augured so sanguinely from its action and effect were disappointed. 
But they shamed openly to relinquish a project for sake of which 
they had made such sacrifices. By degrees, however, they sought 
to rekindle the embers of that fire which with thoughtless hand 
they aided to extinguish. The Government availing themselves 
of the inactivity that prevailed, and acting on the information they 
received, resolved to strike a second blow. Charles Duffy was 
arrested for an article which the Castle Organ branded as shrinking 
and cowardly, and which evidently lacked the burning spirit of 
the time. Immediately the clubs, which continued a precarious 
and unintelligible existence, came together and elected a directory 
of five from among their own members. This directory consisted 
of Messrs. Dillon, Meagher, O'Gorman, Reilly, and McGee. 
What their exact duty was does not sufficiently appear. But I 
believe the fact to be that they never took counsel together. 

Mr. Meagher and Mr. O'Gorman left town immediately. About 
that time I was actively engaged in Tipperary. On the same day 
and hour Mr. Meagher was arrested in Waterford and I in Cashel. 



04 THK PBLOlffl TRACK. 

An attempt was made to rescue both of us and by us Loth the effort 

I knew nothing of what had occurred. I had been 

g since the formation oi the league on my own judgment and 

v. Independent of the Tact that the harvest was yet 

• \ and that we were tacitly pledged to await its coming, 

ience for the previous month satisfied me that the people 

were t it from being prepared ; and I could not allow any pen 

considerations to influence the country at such a Crisfs. .Mr. 

her was governed by similar motives. It might have been 
better lead we acted otherwise; but with our then convictions, the 
;isk on our own account would have been Selfish and criminal ; 
and rather than be guilty of it we yielded to our fate. At the 
time each of us thought the charge against him was at least felony. 
It turned out otherwise, and though the magistrates who arrested 
and committed us refused to entertain the question whether or not 
the offence was bailable, and though we were both paraded through 
the country under an escort ot' several hundred men, the govern- 
ment directed we should be admitted to bail. Mr. Meagher pro- 

i from Dublin to Limerick, where the indictment against him 
was found ; arrd on the same day I was liberated from Nenagh 
jail. Previous to my arrest, I had arranged to hold a meeting on 
the summit of Slievenamon mountain. It was fixed for the day- 
after that on which I was liberated at Nenagh, which is at 
fifty miles from the place of meeting. I was not liberated until 
late in the evening ; but I resolved to be present at the meeting, 
and immediately proceeded on my journey. I traveled all night, 
partly on horseback and partly on foot, arriving at Cashel early in 
the morning. I there learned that Mr. Meagher and some friends 
of his from Limerick had also arrived with the same object as 
self. We rode together to the mountain, followed by several thou- 
sands, a distance of twenty miles. Fifty thousand men at least clam- 
bered that steep mountain side, under a scorching July sun. Four 
times as many would have been there to meet 09, but it had been 
widely rumored none of us would be there ; and in fact most of 
those who came believed we were both in our prison cells. B< 
this, efforts were made by men, high in the confidence of the leaders 
and the country to prevent the meeting altogether. To fix their 
motives was difficult, but it would be hazardous to attribute to 
them any but the best. Facts have since proved, however, that 
their patriotism had even then begun to halt. The Rev. Mr, 

, of whom much shall be said, hereafter, was foremost in this 
endeavor, and actually dissuaded the people of Watcrford, Carrick, 

and Wexford from proceeding to the mountain. These people all 

remained in Carrick, and Mr. Meagher was informed that they 
extreme excitement. This intelligence deter- 
mined him to leave the mountain suddenly and proceed to meet 
his fellow townsmen. Had all these been allowed to attend 
;:■ resolution might have been \ erv differed from what 
!. But •' disappointed and chagrined. The 



THE FELON'S TRACK. ft 3 

mountain top had been selected for many reasons. Principal 
among them were these : Public meetings in Ireland had actually 
become a farce. We determined to hold one from which all sense- 
less and idle brawlers would be excluded. The difficulty of 
ascending the hill would, we thought, sufficiently test the courage 
and sincerity of our followers. Secondly, we wished for a spot 
not accessible to her majesty's troops, so as to avoid a chance of 
a collision. Thirdly, we thought it would be a precaution against 
detectives ; and finally, it was possible we might determine on 
some bolder step when we saw our strength. The excitement in 
Carrick had nearly become uncontrollable, when Mr. Meagher 
arrived there, and it was deemed advisable to lead the peo- 
ple out of the town. The distance to Waterford is twelve Irish 
miles, over the entire of which the procession stretched j and 
so dense was the crowd that Mr. Meagher did not arrive in Water- 
ford sooner than three o'clock, next morning. It may well be 
supposed that such a scene of excitement, heat, and tumult, afforded 
but little opportunity for deliberation. I was able to speak with 
my friend only in brief snatches ; and I did not afterward see him 
until it was too late to take counsel for the future. 

The meeting on that day, the evening scene at Carrick, and the 
arrival in Waterford, were relied on by the English minister, as a 
perfect justification for the suspension of the Habeas Corpus Act. 
Others and more powerful ones influenced the cabinet ; and fore- 
most among these was the great meeting at New York, which too 
clearly evidenced the purpose of America, should the struggle pro- 
ceed. I had no communication, directly or indirectly, with any of 
my comrades after that day, save one letter from Mr. O'Brien. 
This letter had reference solely to my approaching trial, which he 
signified his wish to be present at. To this letter I replied, inform- 
ing him that it had been intimated to me that a number of men 
would assemble, armed, near Nenagh, during the trial ; and I be- 
sought him to be there for the purpose of preventing an outbreak, 
which I regarded as disastrous, unprepared as the people then 
were. Neither the trial nor the meeting took place, and other 
events shaped our destiny.* A few days after the Slievenamon 

* Since the above was written,' I hare heard it said that a report, current abont 
the time of Mr. O'Brien's conviction, had been recently received here. The re- 
port was, that I promised Mr. O'Brien to have 50,000 men to meet him ; which was 
his principal inducement to act as he did; and that I not only had not one man. 
but was myself absent when he came. The absurdity of the rumor was sufficie ntly 1 
proved by the fact that Mr. O'Brien did not come to mc, or my part of the country, 
m the first instance. The real truth is, that I never directly or indirectly, by 
word or letter, counseled the outbreak. Nay, more : I was as ignorant of Mr, 
O'Brien's purpose as the President of these States. At the time of Mr. Mitchel's 
trial, I believe I expressed a Very strong opinion in favor of rescuing him ; and 
that opinion Was grounded on the belief that the whole people would rise up en 
masse, and n one wild burst of vengeance, sweep their. oppressors from the land. 
But neither then nor afterward, did Mr. O'Brien give me the least reason to be- 
lieve that he was prepared to resist the government in arms, save as far as he con- 
curred in acts which had a tendency to that end. 

When first the report above referred to was circulated, I wrote the strongest 
contradiction of it, and Mr. Meagher, with Mr. O'Brien's sanction, address*** 



96 THE FELON'S TRACK. 

meeting, it was intimated to me that I was to be arrested on a 
second charge, the exact nature of which was not stated. I could 
nol doubt the accuracy of my information, and being fully deter- 
mined to preserve my liberty for the coming struggle, which under 
any circumstance could not be long delayed, [ lefl a the 

f duly, and proceeded through the country to the 1 
Slievenamon, where I took up my quarters at a farmer's house, 

where I remained two d.iys and nights, ill total ignorance of the 

circumstances then rapidly hurrying the crisis wherein our fondly 
cherished hopes were Masted. 

the following note to the editor of the Tipperary Vindicator. T am sorry it 
should be In any way necessary to produce it here; but ss this is the last time I 

shall ever refer to this subject, 1 thought it best to add this testimony to my 

own. 

Cl.O.NMKI, fiOAI,. 

lis LOKBs fully authorises bis friend, Mr. Lenihan, to state, that the excul- 
pation which appeared in s recent number of his paper, from Mr Doheny, is the 

perfect truth. ' 

Mr. Meagher is most anxious to have this stated. for he has felt, for a longtime! 

deeply pained at many of the false reports that have appeared against hi* I 

—his dear and trusted friend, Michael Doheny. 
One of the most grievous of these reports, has been that verv false one, charging 

Mr. Doheny with baying invited Mr. Smith O'Brien to the county Tipp 

Nothing could have been more false than this. 

Mr. Doheny, so far from inviting Mr. O'Brien to Tipperary, did not. in fact, 
know of his being in the county at all, until Mr. Meagher Uld him, an 1 that VII 
on Tuesday, July 25th. 

(Signed) Thomas FbAWCH Mlauher. 

V> ntten a few hours after the passing of the sentence of death. 
October 23, 1848. 





/ 






THE FELON'S TRACK ; 97 



CHAPTER VII. 

THE OUTBREAK. MR. o'bRIEN IN CARRICK CASIIEL — KILLENAULE 

MULLINAHONE BALLINGARRY. AFFAIR AT KILLENAULE. DE- 
FEAT OF MR. O'BRIEN'S PARTY AT THE COMMON. PERSONAL AD- 
VENTURES OF THE WRITER AND HIS COMRADE, UP TO THE DATE OF 



On the night of the '24th of July, I was awoke, where I was 
staying, by a rapping at my window. I recognized the voice of 
my sister-in-law, and learned from her, in a few seconds, how mat- 
ters stood. Her information, in brief, was this, that Messrs. 
O'Brien, Dillon, and Meagher, had left Dublin on learning that 
the Habeas Corpus Act was suspended; and that it was supposed 
their object was, to throw themselves on the courage of the coun- 
try. This intelligence rested on the authority of two trusted mem- 
bers of the council of the confederation, Messrs. James Cantwell, 
and P. J. Smith. The fact was all which I then cared to know. 
I parted from my sister in half an hour, and rode off in the direc- 
tion of Carrick-on-Suir, where I was certain Mr. O'Brien would 
direct his way, whether he came alone or followed by his country- 
men in arms. Mid the lone silence of that journey, while there 
was leisure to revolve all the difficulties and hazards of the future, 
the idea never once occurred to me that, supposing my information 
correct, the step was rashly taken. On such occasions, when cen- 
turies gather into moments, some one overmastering feeling, hope 
or passion, absorbs and controls the whole understanding. That 
which was then present to my mind, and occupied all its faculties, 
was the hope of satisfaction, or vengeance, if you will, for so many 
ages of guilty tyranny. The tears, the burning and blood of nearly 
one thousand years seemed to letter the eastern sky, as day dawned 
upon my way. Apprehension, I had none. From earliest child- 
hood to that hour, I never met one Irishman, whose hope of hope 
it was not, to deliver the country forever from English thrall. 1 
had lived amidst all ranks, (at least in their characters of politi- 
cians,) had known the sentiments of all, from the most ignorant 
peasant, to the very highest official of government ; and then or 
now, I would find it difficult to say where hatred to English domi- 
nation — English power in Ireland is neither government nor do- 
minion — reigned the most intensely. Some men there are by na- 
7 



TTIE FELON'S TRACK. 

, and they would shrink from the perils of notional 
QCe ; but it' any sentiment could be said to Hve in natures so 
groveling, the gr land, even though tor. craven to 

elf audible, constitutes th< of their mental vitality. 

• there are, too, BO selfish, as to sell their own and their fam- 
ilies 1 hon< r for gold; but as tl at their Bordid'gains, if they 
. a scruple, whether m fact or in antici . the de- 
of hoarded spite against England. One 

man of that class, whom I hail known, will furnish a conclusive 

mple. Trusted and paid by the Whigs, be supreme 

Wesl Britain, who saw in his country but a prey for m aer cor- 
morants; distrusted and dismissed by the 1 d storm 
the castle, even with the baton of the !'.. .hich he 
hail been discarded. Others, also, of a loftier stamp, lined in, 
in the path of allegiance, by considerations more justifiable, yet 
more or less cowardly in character. 

Some doubted the ability of their country to effect her redemp- 
tion. Some doubted the capacity, and perhaps the sincerity of the 
chiefs. Some were schooled in duplicity, and under the ermine, 
or under the privy councillor's robe, carried fierce hearts, benumb- 
ed by mendicancy and seared by shame. But the first flash of their 
country's liberty, would see them ranged at that y'a side, 

repa\ in.:', with the fiercest hate, the beggar crumbs whi ih England 
had !lung from the fragments of her overloaded table. It is true 
I lugh that a long course of corruption, beginning with the per- 
jured peer, and ending with the tidewaiter, had created a class of 
conditional loyalists, with nine-tenths of which the condition is 
always unfulfilled; while, in its very fulfillment, the other one- 
tenth has found but bitterness, the "sauce piquant e" of their 
daily bread. But as a general rule, such a thing as a pure Irish 
loyalist does not exist. Its possible existence presupposes an ab- 
surdity in nature. An Irishman cannot become loyal to English 
domination, without divesting himself of the last attribute of his 
nature, not as an Irishman, but as a man. 

The knowdedge of this fact was my a base of operations." 
Ten thousand armed men, successful against a garrison of five 
hundred, would produce a more abundant crop of avenging war- 
riors than the fabled dragon's teeth, and that simultaneously 
through every square mile of the island. In ten days there would 
be two millions of Irishmen in anus. It may well be asked, what 
arms'? But even instinct will reply, what arms would be needed? 
England had in Ireland less then forty thousand mi a, and, without 
hazarding the question, how many of them could >!.. rely on, it 
summate military genius to suggest how they could 
be dealt with by a simultaneous rising of the country. The arms 
of I '\ >uld then be hers. She would have time to form 

a regular army t<> aid her undisciplined strength. posi- 

tion ;tt home, where she had not a soldier to spare ; 1.' r condition 
abroad, where she was beaten to the wall ; and her relations with 



THE FELON'S TRACK. 99 

foreign powers, would achieve the rest. To a successful Irish revo- 
lution, a coup cle main is indispensable ; and a coup de main would 
be incompatible with any organized plan, other than existed. It 
will be at once seen that for this place details are unfit. The 
above sketch rather comprehends the bolder outlines of an insur- 
rection in action, and they suggest nothing to warn the enemy as 
to future operations. The prospect they presented to me — a pros- 
pect which long contemplation seemed to have realized into fact — 
excluded from my mind the preliminary and intermediate consid- 
erations of time, place, and other circumstances. There was but 
one of any importance, the success of the commencement ; and that 
seemed beyond all question, if, as I hoped, the neighborhood of 
Carrick-on-Suir were selected. As I approached that town in the 
gray of morning, and the past and the future in burning recollec- 
tion thronged on my brain, I envied the destiny which God had 
awarded to its inhabitants, in breaking the first link of the slavery 
of nearly twenty generations. This, alas, was a dream. The 
people of Carrick had already, with shrinking hand, marred their 
own immortal lot. 

Arriving at the house of John O'Mahony, one of the truest living 
Irishmen, I heard what follows. On the previous day Messrs. 
O'Brien, Dillon and Meagher, had arrived at Carrick. Their 
arrival was unexpected, sudden, and startling. They had apprised 
no one of their approach ; and no counsel had been taken or de- 
cision come to. It is needless to say that the crowd which gathered 
to see them, when the intelligence of their arrival spread, came 
unarmed and unprepared. The speeches addressed to them were 
brief, determined, and to this effect. " We learned/' said the 
chiefs, " that an act was passed authorizing the Irish government 
to seize our persons without even the imputation of a crime. You 
have vowed to strive with us, in every extremity, and die with us, if 
need be. We are here to demand the redemption of your pledge, 
in the name of your enslaved country. The hour has come when 
the truth of that country is to be tested ; and first among her children 
the trust of her honor is committed to you." How much more 
might have been said, and how far short of the passionate appeal, 
made by the most gifted of men, the above language may fall, this 
is not the place to inquire. The crowd answered with a loud shout. 
With the leaders of that crowd other thoughts were busy. Some 
of them waited on the " Traitors ;" others, and the most influential, 
absented themselves. Among the latter was the Rev. Mr. Byrne, 
who, up to that hour, had taken an advanced position among those 
w r ho were most forward in the cause of the country. Not a fort- 
night before, he delivered a speech to nearly one hundred thousand 
persons in the town of Carrick, pre-eminently insurrectionary in 
its tendency ; and he had acted more than once as controller and 
regulator of the violent passions his own vehemence aroused. For 
this duty, which he effectively discharged because of his known 
disloyalty, he received the public approval of England's prime 



100 



\"S TRACK. 



minister. From all these circumsl the responsibilities of his 

ion were such as it would require rdihood of character 

It was reported at the time that lie did not rest 

udoningaposl which he ha I attained with intense 

[tion, but ev utmost u b the people against 

:in entei | ich he designated as rash, ill-designed, and fraught 

with ruin to the town, 'i rt has been repeated as a fact by 

the present writer, and has not been contradicted by Mr. Byrne. 
JUit ii is right to add, that a \ ctable gentleman, a witness 

of that day • has distinctly contradicted it. He added 

that Mr. By] tutor; and he defended the 

duct of those- who really influenced the people, on the ground 
. the pre] med of their very nature to preclude the 

possil)i !: is; and that it was the sacred duty of every 

man capable of appreciating the position and resources of the peo- 
ple, the difficulties of the enterprise, and the consequences of fail- 
ure, not alone to Carrick, let the entire island, at all hazards, to 
prevent a useless wreck and slaughter. The great argument relied 
upon by every one was, why should ( 'arrick be selected ? The same 
question would apply everywhere else; and if the consideration 
it involves were to avail, there never could be a revolution. How- 
ever, in Carrick it seems to have prevailed. Other arguments, no 
doubt, were urged, such as want of provisions, want of arms, and 
want of ammunition. The moment of indecision is the harvest of 
evil passions — avarice, selfishness, cowardice, cloud the intellect, 
and blast the destiny of man. There is some doubt as to who 
principally superinduced this indecision; and the judgment which 
here ranks it with a faulty weakness and a fearful fatality refuses 
to question the motives upon which it was based. 

One singular fact, attested by all, deserves particular notice. It 
is this : the other Roman Catholic clergyman of Carrick did not 
then interfere. They had been always opposed, on other grounds, 
to the Irish confederation ; but in that hour of fate they were silent. 
. O'Brien and his comrades left the town deeply disappointed, 
if not in actual disgust and despair. They were ignorant of my 
absence from Cashel and determined to join me there. When 1 
had learned this. J was thirt] miles from that town and knew that 
they had arrived there during the night, and had, long before then, 
taken some decisive course. My hope was that the town was in 
their hands. ]}ut, 1 ! decide on what it became me to 

do, a messenger arrived from Cashel, directing me to remain where 
I was, and conveying an assurance that Cashel was by that time 
ptured. M . rwed, confirming the 

intelligence. B on his way to WaterfowL W< i ately 

determined on : oun try along the I \ eenamon 

and the Slatequarry hills, which stretch into the county Kilkenny. 
During that journey the enthusiasm of the people was measure- 
less. • pikes were manufactured, the carpenter was 
at work fitting the handles, and the very women were employed in 



THE FELON'S TRACK. 101 

polishing and sharpening these weapons on the rough mountain 
stones. We called at several villages, and were surrounded by 
the young men and the aged, by matron and maid, and from no 
lips did one sound of complaint, or discouragement, or fear, fall. 
Everywhere hope and resolution and courage lit up the hearts and 
eyes of young and old. We rode, at least a distance of twenty 
miles, and returned assured that there was not one man within that 
district who was not then prepared, and would not be armed ere 
night came. We appointed the chapel of Ballyneal, within two 
miles of Carrick, as the place of rendezvous, determined to act 
according to the intelligence which we might receive from CasheL 
Meantime deputations from Carrick waited upon us, to assure us 
the people there would follow us notwithstanding any advice they 
might have received. We agreed that we would not attack the 
town, and required five hundred men for another enterprise. A 
short time afterward some directions were required, and I wrote 
one or two sentences on a scrap of paper which was taken from 
the messenger by the Rev. Mr. Byrne and torn. What his influ- 
encing motives might have been I know not, nor do I care to in- 
quire. My first impulse was immediately to appear in the town 
and throw myself on the protection of the people. My friend 
dissuaded me from this attempt and proposed to go into town him- 
self, which he could do without danger, to ascertain what would 
be the probability of my proposal's success. After two or three 
anxious hours, he returned, impressed with the conviction that 
such an attempt would be fatal. 

By this time crowds began to assemble at the place of rendezvous 
before alluded to, and word was brought us that the Reverend 
Mr. Morrissey, the parish priest of that place, was endeavoring 
to disperse them. Owing to his character, there was not much to 
be apprehended from his influence with the people. His associa- 
tions had been with the aristocracy, and most of his friendships 
and sympathies contracted at the fox-covert, or on the " Stand 
House." This is mentioned, not in disparagement of the man, 
but for the purpose of rescuing his order from imputations, attach- 
ing to his conduct alone. The very fact of his interference would 
suggest the conclusion, that the course he recommended was op- 
posed to the general sentiments of his brethren ; so we felt at this 
time. But we mistook his influence with the people. It was re- 
ported to us that he used certain arguments, incredible, because 
blasphemous. But the argument which succeeded, and which all 
alike attested, was this, " that he would put himself at the head 
of the people if they but waited three weeks." 

Influenced by this promise, the people had dispersed before my 
friend arrived at the place of rendezous. He returned to me sadly 
discouraged, after a day and night of labor and agitation, as in- 
tense as ever strained the energies of man. I then determined to 
ride on to Cashel, to learn the fate of Mr. O'Brien, and his com- 
rades. I was accompanied by two young farmers, well armed. 






102 TriE FELON'S TRACK. 

We arrived, about midnight, s1 ill, where I was made ac- 

tted wiili all that had el. 

The history was more melancholy than our own. My 

ument, .sincere or pretended, against an] i 

in thai town. Mr. O'Brien, in ignorance of whom to apply to, 

man a1 least, Bince accused of the darkest 

treachery. Others, from whom 1 had different hopes, shrunk from an 

encounter which, at other tie. med to long foi as the 

I | iuld he-tow. There 00 cl< inter- 

fered— the people were left to act for themselves ; hut it must be 
admitted, that the actual people never had an opportunity of prov- 
ieir courage. A young friend of mine, who had all my trust, 
and justified it by unshaken fidelity through many a trial, was 
dispatched to the country to pn . but he applied to 

the wrong source, and, deluded by the character of him to whom 
he had spoken, returned under the mistaken conviction that from 
•untry nothing was to he expected. This decided Mr. 
O'Brien and his fru ads. He had been joil ' ' Bel by P. J. 

Smyth, and James Cant well, now in the United 

• v. a; Paris, and by Patrick O'Donohoe, now sharing the 
doom of his chief. 

in episode in this history, the fate of Mr. O'Donohoe is sin- 
gular ami Startling. lie was much relied on by his friends in the 
Confederation, and was intrusted with the dispatches to Mr. 
O'Brien. He proceeded on his mission to Kilkenny, and there 
applied to one of the clubs, lie was known to none of the mem- 
. and became at once the object of suspicion. It was, accord- 
send him for the rest of the journey, under 
arrest, and Stevens, and another member, were appointed to 
that duty. They proceeded in execution of their mission to Cashed, 
where Mr. O'Donohe irmly welcomed by .Mr. O'Brien, 

whose fate he thenceforth determined to share. M S as came to 
tlution j but the other guard of Mr. O'Donohoe, re- 
fused to commit himself to fortunes which appeared so desp< 
With Messrs. Stevens and O'Donohoe, their very desperation 
acted as the most ennobling I I iistible inducement. They 

clung to him, to the last, wiili a fidelity, the more untiring, 
in proportion as his circumsl irtended imminent disaster and 

ruin. 

Their departure from C be] compelled a feeling of gloomier 
dine; an : than they had yet ex; 

The dark* ever clouded the hoi a be- 

gan to darken upon them. Where the} 
uouh! make r them in his very heart, 

lution remained uncharj 
They. th( refore, a final resource to take up thei: 

ible part >untrj . As they 

• ded thn king the Tipperary col- 

. around them, and th what 



THE FELON'S TRACK. 103 

they hoped would form the nucleus of an army. Braver hearts 
never beat beneath a cuirass, but they were not armed, disciplined, 
or even taught. On that day they took the road to the village of 
Mullinahone, situate about 17 miles south-east of Cashel. As 
they entered Mullinahone, the chapel bell was rung, and a 
crowd of some thousands collected. 

Mr. O'Brien addressed them, with the same brevity and force as 
at Carrick-on-Suir, where his hopes were far brighter. The two 
clergymen, Mr. Corcoran and Mr. Cahil, appeared by his side and 
openly resisted his advice. But, with the people, their influence 
totally failed. Three thousand persons at least formed their 
bivouac that night. Mr. O'Brien remained up with them most of 
the night. Notwithstanding the disappointments of former trials, 
he, once more, entertained most sanguine hopes of his country ? s 
resurrection. But, ere morning, the counsels of the clergymen 
prevailed so far as to introduce discussion and disunion ; and next 
day he was abandoned by more than half his followers. Once 
more the priests interfered and openly remonstrated against the 
course Mr, O'Brien had proposed. They tried every means, 
entreaty, expostulation, remonstrance, menace, but without any 
considerable effect; and Mr. O'Brien left the town, with a large 
multitude, directing his way to Ballingarry. The village of Bal- 
lingarry is about four miles distant from Mullinahone ; and the 
inhabitants of the latter accompanied Mr. O'Brien to the bounda- 
ries of the former parish, whose inhabitants in turn assumed the 
duty of his escort, and, if need be, of his defence. When the 
cavalcade reached the village, they took up their position in the 
chapel-yard, and summoned the neighboring people by the ringing 
of the chapel bell. A great number of people answered the signal, 
and Mr. O'Brien explained to them his purpose and his hopes. 
He did not then propose any plan of immediate offensive opera- 
tions, but stated, in general terms, that his object was to protect 
himself from arrest, while the country would be engaged in organ- 
ization, and the crop coming to maturity. An idea prevailed, 
among the people, that he only wished to be protected for a time, 
and they seemed incapaple of appreciating either his object or his 
motives. I reached the spot as the assembly was breaking up and 
the people retiring in small groups, to their respective districts, 
some four or five hundred, who were partially armed, remaining in 
the village. I was accompanied by Thos. D. Reilly, who made 
his way to me on that morning. We had entered into arrangements 
with certain men whom we met in the morning as to a joint move- 
ment, for which the followers of Mr. O'Brien seemed but ill-adapted 
and prepared. Our first care was to take counsel as to the future. 
We detailed mutually to each other the respective circumstances 
which had shaped our movements so far, and with which it was our 
duty then to contend. But one thing seemed quite clear ; namely, 
that the country demanded a delay of at least a month. Although 
the sincerity of the motive, on which this demand was founded, 



104 ' CK - 

nable to many, there • y of counteracting 

ing its universality. The Question then wa . h< « 
ad to be complied with, without compromising our 
liberty or the position igued that th 

of ourcondition would justify any act which would reassure 
. . (the apprehension of starv- 

w fcj -} { •... ted, and thai a proclai.. 

; forthwith be pu i 1 confiscating the landed pc 

..lie and reward of ^le- 
nd another proclamation din e people to live at the 
emy. This proposal jted on the ground 
that it required an t on the part of the government to 
sweeping f, which, pted by us in our 
ion, would he regarded as an act < plunder, unre- 
■ 1 by any of the stern necessities of war. So decided the 
; was then proposed that we should scatter, and take 
lividually as best, we could until harvest time. But Mr. 
O'Brien refused to hear counsel which involved, as its first princi- 
ple, th oming fugitives. A middle course was therefore 
| on. It could not fairly be said that the country had been 
I, and we were not, at the time, aware how far people at a 
nee were prepared to second our efforts. The strength of the 
government, too, seemed p d. For miles on miles around, 
lolitary soldier or policeman was not to be found. The small 
garrisons had been withdrawn, and all the available forces stationed 
iii th< rated in the large towns. The idea 
of maintaining our position for a few weeks seemed not at all im- 
probable ; and, meantime, we would have an opportunity of < 

uit parts of the country, and of preparing those then 

around us lor active service. When men differ, a compromise is 

':. It did so on that o • and it was accordingly 

resolved, that we should return to tl • neighborhood of Carrick, 

the arrival of the expected assistance from Waterford. and 

be neighb >ring garrison of Clonmell in awe, by signal-fires 

at night and scattered parties by day. We immediately returned 

and rode most part of the night on our way back. We slept a few 

hours at Brookhill and had interviews next morning with men who, 

on the previous day, were in high heart and hopes. We, at once, 

saw the effect that delay and mdeci ion had produced on their 

-. deports the most contradictory and false, r< : what 

Mr. O'Brien prop uindtheirwa] them, 

and it took hours to them. They again . us to 

. , however, and WC I »S ! .On 

.e had interviews with the h and of 

other and, at i • >und the difficulties of our 

M d the fearfully incr< 

a we expected 
i 
When we reached Kilcash, at the southern Slievenamon, 



THE FELON'S TRACK. 105 

we learned that all hope of the expected assistance was at an end. 
Mr. Meagher had returned ; and having despatched G'Mahony to 

Mr. O'Brien, to request he would once more return to the neighbor- 
hood of the mountain, where he either could be more safely con- 
cealed for a time, or a last desperate eil'ort could be made under 
better auspices. He waited several hours after the time appointed 
for his return, and then departed toward the direction of Borris- 
leigh, in the northern riding of Tipperary, accompanied by Mr. 
Maurice Ley ne, with whom unhappily he fell in, and to whose weak 
counsel, according to the information I received, much of his sub- 
sequent ill fate was owing. The distance to Borrisleigh could not 
be less than forty miles. Mr. Meagher must have been persuaded 
by O'Mahony's delay, that x\Ir. O'Brien had been driven from his 
position, and perhaps captured, or he would not have undertaken 
so long a journey, the sole motive of which could only be the hope 
of rousing, with the aid of the Rev. Mr. Kenyon, that district of the 
country, so as to rescue his chief or avenge him. It was then ap- 
parent that our position had become desperate. We instantly pro- 
ceeded to the house of our friend, who recounted the particulars 
of his visit to Ballingarry, and its results. He agreed in the pro- 
priety of going a second time to meet Mr. O'Brien, and urging upon 
him the necessity of some decisive course. The startling events of 
the two preceding days, too clearly proved that his position was 
not tenable, and that whatever might be resolved on, it was indis- 
pensable to remove from Ballingarry. It was then night, and we 
were all sorely taxed by long riding and want of rest. Not one of 
us were able to mount, and we placed hay in a car on which we 
flung ourselves, and trusted to the guidance of the boy who led 
the horse. We travelled about nine miles in this way, one en- 
deavoring to act as sentinel while the others were asleep ; but we 
found that unless we trusted to blind chance, we could not con- 
tinue our journey. So, half by force and half by persuasion we 
obtained liberty to stretch on a pallet in an empty room. Mr. 
O'Brien was then snatching a little broken rest in a field, not 
four miles away from us, without our being aware of the fact. 
In the morning we learned that he remained there only while a car 
was procured at Mullinahone, and then return to the neighborhood 
of the collieries. He left Ballingary on the advice contained in 
Mr. Meagher's message, and, accompanied by some hundreds of 
his followers, proceeded toward Carrick, through the town of 
Mullinahone, where, for the third time, he had to encounter the 
open hostility of the Catholic clergymen, who on this occasion had 
recourse to threats, and even blows. Owing to their interference, 
one-fourth of those who followed him so far, did not accompany 
him outside the town. He was nearly deserted, when he changed 
his resolution of falling back on his former position. When the 
car arrived he proceeded directly to the town of Killenauld, which 
might be said to be the head-quarters of the colliery. There he and 
his companions entered the hotel, where they remained till mora- 



106 THE FEi. 

rly that day the chape] bell was rung, and a great multi- 
tude The] wei • al in that qu 

I armed. But tht i astic, and the Catholic 

tfl did no1 interfere. While the bell was tolling, intelli 
was received that a troop of dragoons was appro. The 

i liately erected a b at the furthest ex- 

tremity of the princi] i .It was constructed of empty carts, 

and baulks of timber. The moment the troop entered the street, 
a similar barricade icted in their rear. The hotel was 

situated between the two barricades. The officer in command 
! no demonstration of active resistance ; ami as he approached 
the last barricade he was surrounded by a great multitude. A few 
of the people were armed with rilles and muskets, others with 
pitchforks, scythes, and slanea, and others had no weapons but 
stones John Dillon stood at the barricade. The officer 
why his passage was interrupted, and stated he was only on an or- 
dinary march. Mr. Dillon demanded whether his object v. 
arrest Smith O'Brien? He said emphatically, no. Mr. Dillon 
then asked if he would pledge his honor as a soldier, that he had 
no intention of arresting Mr. O'Brien, adding, that if he did so, 
the troop would be allowed to pass unmolested. He unhesita- 
tingly pledged his honor, and immediately the barricade was par- 
tially removed. Mr. Dillon took his horse by the bridle and led 
out of the town. 
W< were approaching Killenaule by another route when Mr. 
O'Bri* n and his party left it by the high road to the collieries. We 
followed, ami after a race of some ten miles overtook them 
Lisnabrock. Thence we proceeded in cars to Buala, and thence to 
the commons. This was on Friday evening, the 28th day of July. 
We retired to an upper room in a public house. There were then 
en, Mr. Dillon, Mr. Stevens, Mr. Cantwell, Mr. 
her, -Mr. O'Donohoc, Mr. Maurice Li r. Reilly, Mr. 

O'Mahony, and myself, with others whose names I cannot men- 
tion, fourteen, as well as I remember, in all. The same questions 
that were discussed on the former day were again reviv< d, and we 
who felt the n of the bold course we recommended then, 

were much more convinced of it under the altered circumstances 
ur position. 

ate was long and warm, but Mr. O'Brien's objections 
were even more immovable than ever. It will not be • 

posals of thai evening should be reproduced here. 
Suffic e, to add, that as far as the principles, I 

"induct was guided. In adhered 10 tnem the more 
i!i became more inevitable, 
calun i respe< ting that meeting. It lias 

that tne i Imonious an 

final. The truth is, th 
und w on the former occasion, • 

v could with a doom we were unable t'j aw 



TIIE FELON'S TRACK/ 107 

afterward it was a source of melancholy pleasure to some of his 
comrades, that he had not been induced to incur what he regarded 
as guilt. The lofty consciousness of unerring rectitude which sus- 
tained his fortitude, could not fail to be checkered by the recollec- 
tion of acts, which in his own estimation were not purely blame- 
less. Had success attended the suggested proposals, they would 
receive the world's unqualified approval ; while failure, ex- 
plained through the medium of a malicious law, and a warped 
and cowardly public opinion, would brand them as iniquitous. 
But Mr. O'Brien's scrupulous sense of honor escaped the 
hazards of such feeble probabilities ; and in the hour of deepest 
gloom, his own unsullied conscience shed peace, light and glory on 
his fate. 

Some of his companions exulted in the morning scene at Kille- 
naule. To seem able to capture a troop of her majesty's dragoons, 
they regarded as a victory. But others, more thoughtful and cor- 
rect, mourned over the escape of the military, which was only to 
be justified on the ground that the incongruous force around the 
feeble barricades, would be unequal to the task. It is a singular 
thing that while Captain Longmore utterly despaired of forcing his 
way, Mr. Dillon was fully conscious of his inability to resist him. 
The latter assumed a superiority he was unable to sustain, the for- 
mer abjured a design which it was criminal, according to the civil, 
and cowardly according to the military code, not to attempt the 
execution of. Mr. Dillon, who led his horse, was a proclaimed 
"traitor." So was Mr. O'Brien, whose presence was avowed ; by 
virtue of his allegiance, and still more, by virtue of his commission 
he was bound to arrest them. To neglect it was cowardice, cog- 
nizable by a court martial, and punishable by death. There could 
be but one justification — utter inability to effect the service. The 
evidence, then, that could alone satisfy a court-martial, must di- 
rectly contradict that which Captain Longmore offered at the trial 
in Clonmel. But while Mr. O'Brien viewed the conduct of Cap- 
tain Longmore as cowardly submission, it would be unjust to con- 
clude that it imparted a single shade of inflexibility to his prin- 
ciples or purpose. On the contrary, they assumed their attributes 
of most rigid sternness, as his fortunes became clouded by a deeper 
gloom. He was averse to everything which bore the stamp of des- 
peration, or could possibly imply a shrinking from fate. 

Of those who took part in the deliberations of that evening, 
Messrs. Dillon, Stevens, McManus, and O'Donohoe, resolved to 
continue with Mr. O'Brien. There seemed a possibility, though a 
desperate one, that they could baffle the enemy for the time the 
country required, and maintain their position of open defiance, 
whilst we, in different parts of the country, should keep up an 
appearance of force, so as to distract attention and check any 
attempt to dispatch a force from the garrison of Clonraell. Mean- 
time we were to endeavor to organize a force, and if strong enough, 
act on our own responsibilities and according to our own prin- 



106 

l< ft him about nine o'clock ID the evening, after the 

lit of th< . were 

■ during the t. Soon after our 

ture h »ngly advised Mr. Oillon to leave for another 

\ prop • • ke up my post on Slieve- 

i, where dd be in the tion to fulfill Mr. 

. at all events, I could escape i 

in spite of any efforts to capture me, and where I expected, in a 

fewdi 11 y a considerable force. Mr.l saidhewould 

bis stand on the Gomeragh mountains, in the county of 

N A • I, with similar views and purp . Mr. Meagher and 

Mr. 1. rith three or four others, traveled together on . 

We dismissed ours and crossed the country. .lived 

once more at Brookhill, which is within about one mile of Fethard, 

e we were able to procure a car that brought .Mr. Reilly as 

far as Kilkenny. The first care of us \. I was to fulfill 

the commission assigned us. A young friend of whom mention 

already made, joined me that evening. lie had been two 

in search of me, and wa^ y and 

fatigue. Rumors of various kinds were rife. But, what 

artening was, the courage of the people was fast subsiding. 
Men wiio were most eager for deeds of any daring two days pre- 
vious, began to exhibit symptoms of hesitation, doubt, and 

rence. But a far sadder disaster had elsewhere befallen. 
Mr. O'Brien, after anight of anxious care, w r as still full of hope. 
He was even then engaged in drawing up a manifesto, embra 

.'. :is possible in such a document, the motives and causes 
I and justified an armed revolt, and the principles 
which it was to be conducted. Whether the draft was de- 
1 or fell into the hands of the government, is not now clear, 
save in s the non-production of the paper at his trial, is ev- 

e that it never reached his persecutors. The leading prin- 
ciple of his entire conduct was that the property, the liberty, the 
destiny, oi the island belonged to the entire people, and that the 
lions which guaranteed them should be the calm embodiment 
of the nation's deliberate judgm< . rtained through the medium 
oi a fr< . bly, deriving its authority from universal sin: 

This was one potent reason why he I to assume, either as 

military leader, or l I bief of a provisional government, the 

q act which could be regarded as the basis of the 
ernment of Ireland. He was scrupulously anxious that 
real principles upon which the futi rty of Ireland was 

lOuld emanate from the free will of the people, un- 
filed by dictatorial power, or personal presl 
1'. Vfr. O'Brien was the eot of 

I welve o i "'ling of Saturday, 

;' .lu.y. h - ich of a 

iusly with 
police, an indiscriminate crowd, composed 



THE FELON'S TRACK. 103 

for the most part of women and hoys with a few armed men, 
langed themselves around him. They occupied an eminence in 
front of the road by which the police approached. Another road 
■d this, at right angles, and Cp.pt. Trant, instead of leading 
his men directly against Mr. O'Brien's position, defiled along the 
cross-road to the right hand — that which led to the widow 
McCormick's. The motive of this manoeuver was obvious. 
Either from personal cowardice, or from cool judgment, he deter- 
mined to await further reinforcements, and, meantime, to secure 
some place of shelter and defence. The crowd, with Mr. O'Brien, 
immediately rushed from their position and hung fiercely on the 
policemen's rear. Capt. Trant ordered a retreat, or those under 
his command adopted that precaution without his authority. The 
armed leaders among the people, Messrs. McManus, Stevens and 
Cavanagh, hesitated to fire on troops flying for their lives. But 
they urged the pursuit so rapidly, that, by the time the police took 
shelter in Mrs. McCormick's house, they were hot upon their 
track. The crowd surrounded the house, and Mr. O'Brien, ap- 
proaching one of the front windows, called on Capt. Trant to sur- 
render. The latter demanded half an hour to consider, which 
Mr. O'Brien unhappily granted. Pending the half hour, the crowd 
became furious and began to fling stones in through the windows. 
Some of the men inside were knocked down by the stones, and the 
officer hurt. Seeing that their own leaders could no longer con- 
trol the people, and believing the destruction of himself and his 
party to be inevitable, Capt. Trant gave orders to his men to fire, 
which presented his only chance of escape. Mi-. O'Brien imme- 
diately rushed between the people and the window, on one of 
which he jumped up, and once more demanded the officer to sur- 
render. But the order to fire had been given and executed with 
deadly effect. Two men fell dead, and several were badly wound- 
ed. The crowd fell back ; but Mr. O'Brien remained still in front 
of the house. There were several windows in front and two small 
ones only in the rear ; parallel with the rear was a barn, in which 
there were two still smaller windows. Messrs. Stevens and 
McManus took possession of this house, and, placing three or four 
sure marksmen inside, for the purpose of taking down any of the 
police who should appear at the back windows, they proposed to 
burn the house in which the police took shelter. They carried 
bundles of hay and placed them against the back door and roof. 
The police seized on Mrs. McCormick's children, and held them 
up to the windows, to terrify or appease the people. At this junc- 
ture the Catholic clergymen appeared on the scene. Either, being 
appalled by the scene of death before them, or being personally 
cowardly, or feeling that to continue the conflict would be pro- 
ductive of useless slaughter, they exerted themselves to the utmost 
to disperse the crowd. Whatever may be their motives, then, it 
is certain that, although Mr. O'Brien was in the neighborhood 
since the previous Wednesday, they had not in any way inter- 



HO .THE FELON'S TRACK. 

fered me upon the scene to attend to the dying and 

the dead. Mr. O'Brien irades, finding themselves 

by this unex] lifficulty, retired a Bhort distance, tocon- 

.\ Ii.a wo to be done. The peo] ilckly 

forming around them, and all were hurriedly preparing 
the house, when a fresh body of police w j from 

tin' opposite direction. r riii.s force consisted of sixty men : the first 
imounted to forty-five. Constable Can idera- 

blv in adv his party. He found himself suddenly surround- 

ed, and was fori urrender and dismount, lie and two others 

of the advance-guard were removed. But the main bodycon- 
I to approach rapidly ; and Mr. I >'Brien was not in a position 
and h i to intercept their junction with the other 

body. His friend I Mr. O'Brien to retreat, which lie re- 

fused. Admi: [y, his inability to cope with these forces, 

dined to avail himself of the means ;ape at his 

His comrades impressed on him that his life belonged to the 
country ; that another effort was yet within the range of possibility, 
and that it was incumbent on him e himself for the final 

By long and passionate entreaty, they induced him to 
mount the police officer's horse and retire. When he had left, 
Messrs. Stevens and McManus led oiX the remainder of their 
i arty, without being pursued or molested. 

er a short consultation, they determined to separate. Mr. 

-us proposed to go on to Urlingford, where a large force were 

collecting, and McManus accepted the duty of bearing to us the 

intelligence of the disaster, and taking chance with us for the 

future. He came up •with Mr. Meagher, Mr. O'Donohoe, and 

Mr. Leyne, who were then on their way to the Comeragh moun- 

but changed their purpose on hearing this sad intelligence. 

They remained that night at the house of a man named Hanrahan, 

ile House, a small village on the high road from 

Kilkenny to Cork. 

I was all this time ignorant of what occurred. After Mr. Reilly 

had left me, and I was joined by the young friend, already men- 

!, I summoned as many (^ the farmers of the neighborhood 

as I could collect, and it was agreed that ten of them who would 

repres hone hundred men, should meet me, next day, after 

divine service, at the wood of Keilavalla. situate near the western 

enamon. We were to be joined by two others from 

ood of Carrick-on-Suir, from which we were distant 

il ten miles. On that morning the news of Mr. I • T en's dis- 

ead far, and was. of course, exaggerated. I had slept, the 

night, not far from the mountain, where I was watched 

by two broth. 1 Walsh, who lived at Brookhill, but have 

i to the United States. 1 gladly avail myself of this 

• ■ their fidelity and l>r.i\ n . U the time appoint- 

, .- friend and 1 proceeded to the place (^' rendezi >uz. We 

remained for hours, and remained in vain. At last one only, of 



THE FELON'S TRACK. HI 

the ten, arrived. He told us that at the Chapel the reverend 
Patrick Laffan read the names of the proscribed traitors for 
whose persons a reward was offered, and endorsed the oiler by his 
curse. After bestowing on each of us much vulgar obloquy, he 
ended by expressing a fervent, wish that he might live to see our 
blackened corpses dangling on the gallows. I could scarcely be- 
lieve my informant ; and, even now, I would not relate this fearful 
circumstance on his sole authority, but the exact words were re- 
peated to me by several others, who also heard them, and whose 
veracity or accuracy I could not question. 

t*\ record the fact with shame, with bitter shame. I have often 
considered, with burning anxiety, whether I ought not to omit it 
in this narrative; whether I would not be justified in passing over 
an incident in that dark drama, which seems as if it were lettered 
in very infamy. Months have passed since the time of its occur- 
rence, and, personally, I utterly forget the private malignity of the 
man. But if I omitted to mention the fact, I would be acting a 
false part, and prostituting historical fidelity, to escape the odium 
and disgrace that Mr. Laffan's conduct cannot fail to cast on his 
fellow-countrymen. I yield to that obligation, the highest that 
can control a man, in my position. In dismissing the topic, at 
once and forever, I disclaim any imputation upon the Roman 
Catholic clergy, as a body. Wherever I have had occasion to 
speak of their interference, I have endeavored, at the same time, 
to suggest an apology, and invariably refused to attribute to them 
a single unworthy motive. But, in this instance, it is not in inge- 
nuity nor in charity to palliate infamy which was at once wanton, 
malignant, and vulgar ; and I leave it in its naked deformity to 
my readers. 

Its result alone causes me any personal concern. That result 
was, as stated, that one alone of the ten, who were to assemble, 
kept his appointment ; and he came, only to say, that, owing to 
what had been stated by Mr. Laffan, and by others in a similar 
way, the spirit of the people was broken and their energy dissipat- ' 
ed. He exhibited, in. his own person, an unhappy illustration of 
the truth of his information. Baffled in that direction, we resolved 
to try one chance more with our Carrick friends. A reaction of 
public sentiment had set in. Everywhere deepest curses were 
muttered against all who were supposed to be the authors of the 
country's defeat and disgrace. We continued on the mountain 
during the remainder of the day ; and toward evening about fifty 
men came up to us, who, one and all, expressed the utmost indig- 
nation at what had happened. Once more our hopes revived. If 
Mr. O'Brien could avoid arrest for a few weeks only, we expected 
that a sense of shame would sting the country to desperate ex- 
ertion. 

After night-fall we descended, and slept at a farmer's house at 
the southern base of the mountain, where we were most kindly 
entertained and sedulously guarded. We there heard of the Bal- 



..ONS TRACK. 

pry disaster. Next morning we once more ascended Slieve- 
. ored to i i the heavy hours 

arts, by firii 
mark. ] uddenly i id we had I shelter 

- raoun tain shower We had dispatched 
., ...1 an interview that i 

. he had rati invited to partake of 

oes, (then be to exhibit the blight,) milk, < 

:•. 1 remember I >wn in a bed, and 

sh that 1 believed my doom led. My noble young 

: at my bed-side, with a rifle and tw i pistols, prepared to 
i my rest with his life. The illness was, however, but trifling 
Lty of acting enabled me at once to 
shake ii off. 'Alter nightfall, we pr to the appointed inter- 

We tr in a common car, accompanied by 

others, all armed. Our haunt \ Q on the road side, 

a place called Moloch, in the neighborhood of Carrick. 

i i Imyi lithful young friend good night; but was doomed 

not to see him afi Mr. O'Mahony and mj ipt on 

some straw, but we had scarcely closed our eyes when w 

he cabin was surrounded by the military and police. We 
were apprised of our perilous position just in time to escape, which 
iffected, after a s aided by extreme darkness. We 

spent the remain.! a- of the night in a field, where I slept very 
soundly. At break of day we retired to a farmer's house near the 
Suir, where, after partaking of some refreshments, we went to bed, 
one or two hours" The breakfast scene of that morning 
is not easily fi Perhaps there is no place in the w 

stantial breakfast can be ; roduced than at a com- 
fortable Irish farmer's. On this occasion the silent, watchful, anx- 
6 of our young hostess, in her attentions, enhanced the 
i of the re ast It is only by those who have partaken of 

such hospitality, that the speechless tenderness of the females 
amoncT that class of fa; appreciated. But on the occa- 

• » which I refer, there was added to the customary delicacy, 
for our fate. hushed words of pressing and 

Bnt looks of sympathy, I off without conversa- 

| e from table to depart, as if conscious Ave had 

d out hist earthly It was not so, however, and 

cur hostess shared much of our after fortune, and now shares our 
ex ilc. i' irder than ours. We are occasionally 

by public approval, by the sympathy and admiration of 
. liberty; whereas, her name is never spoken. She 
i ion of comparative aiilucnce, lost her inde- 

d in its practical worthy sense..) and is 

daily bread. ( tf all the vicissitudes of fortune 

.'.eh the attempt of which I write resulted, there is not one 

, me more pain than that of Margaret Quintan, the 

[aims to that title ?) to whom 1 have auuded. 








'/ /r n 






, UfU< 






THE FELON'S TRACK. 113 



CHAPTER VIII. 

ARREST OF MR o'bRIEN OF MESSRS MEAGHER AND o'dONOHOE 

ARREST OF TERENCE BELLEW m'mANUS CLONMELL SPECIAL COM- 
MISSION TRIAL, CONVICTION, SPEECHES, AND SENTENCE OF THE 

REBELS WRIT OF ERROR COMMUTATION OF SENTENCE TRANS- 
PORTATION OF THE HEROES. 

Before proceeding further with the details of my own wander- 
ings, I wish to follow out to its conclusion the fate of those whom 
we parted with at Ballingarry, and were destined to see no more, 
though, in doing so, I must anticipate the order of time, in which 
the events took place. My task here, is more difficult and painful 
than any detail of facts, however gloomy. There is always in the 
reverses of the brave, some glimpses of glory to reconcile us to the 
dark disasters on our way ; but when calumny pursues their path, 
gnawing, with ceaseless tooth, the priceless jewel of their character, 
the historian must shudder to find his labor beset by the filth and 
rubbish the viper has left behind. In this instance, that lesson of 
Mr. O'Connell's, which was the most fatal in its influence, found 
many believers. It was said, and said unscrupulously, that Mr 
O'Brien and his followers were actual agents of the British Govern- 
ment, suborned to precipitate the country into revolution, for 
which they were to receive large possessions and lucrative employ- 
ment beyond the sea. It was the constant habit of Mr. O'Connell, 
when any one proposed a course bolder than his own, to suggest 
that he was doing the business of the enemy. He may have 
adopted this course in his self-assumed character of Dictator, as 
the surest and speediest means of clearing all obstructions out of 
his way, Whatever his motive, it was an unworthy resource ; for 
it supplied the meanest minds with an example and a pretext for 
the gratification of their own vile propensities. Their voice was 
heard, amid the silence of mourning and death, when in an hour of 
universal dismay, John Mitchel was borne from his loved father- 
land ; and still more audibly when the dungeon closed on Smith 
O'Brien and his illustrious comrades. In the latter instance, 
slander availed itself of an incident connected with their arrest to 
justify its infamous conclusions. " If," it croaked, " they were in 
earnest, why suffer themselves to be arrested so easily ? — Why 
come to the railway terminus ? — Why parade on the high-road in 
front of a police barrack ? In effect, why surrender ?" But in 
8 



HI THE FELON'S TRATR 

Ireland toil was little heeded ; nor Bhould I deem it worthy of the 
[east notice, if it were not revived in the new world, under cir- 
cumstances calculated to rive it credence and durability. At one 
tin u- it is insinuated that they "surrendered," such as "it was said 
tli •) gave themselves up." and immediately afterward, in reference 
to the period or the fact, if to he found " at the time of Mr. ( fBrien'i 

surrender." And again, in the same breath, it is positively stated 
as a mere matter of course. 

The propagator of this malignity knows it to be false. lie knows 
also that it serves the purpose of those who would charge the 
country's truest and bravest with Vilest treachery. 

I shall pursue the theme no further. The truth is, Mr. O'Brien 
remained among a people who were sorely stricken by terror. 
Their friends were dead or scattered; and rumor, with a thousand 
tongues, multiplied the most awful of horrors which were said to 
be approaching them. Although they received and sheltered Mr 
O'Brien, he evidently saw that their generosity cost them dearly. 
and that they were in the utmost alarm. His own privations he 
could endure ; but not the fear and Buffering his presence caused 
to others. This, and this only, determined him in the first instance. 
He might also have hoped that if he could reach the neighborhood 
of his own home, he would be defended with desperate fidelity. 
He was aware that Mr. Uichard O'Gorman was in that district, and 
he had been informed that he was followed by thousands. That 
he did not seek to reach the county Limerick by some other means 
of conveyance — by a car, on foot, or on horseback — may be a mis- 
take of judgment ; but none would be free from peril : and had he 
escaped detection at Thurles, there would not be the least danger 
until he reached Cahermoyle, as the rest of the journey would be 
entirely by night. His sagacity may be questioned, perhaps, but 
it is extreme villainy to question his purpose. He took that course 
only and solely because he thought it the safest ; and he had no 
more intention of surrenderini: than I had when I crossed by the 
packet to Boulogne. 

Mr. Meagher and Mr. O'Donohoe were arrested under circum- 
stances over which they had still less control. They were utterly 
unacquainted with the country, and did not know if they left the 
high-road, but the first house, they might approach, would be a police 
barrack. They had made every attempt desperation could sug- 
t to rouse the people, but in vain. They were opposed by some, 
shunned by some, and from some they received false counsel. 
They had exhausted the welcome of all who were inclined to re- 
ceive them, and they knew not one step of their way. Previously, 
too, Mr. Meagher had peremptorily refused to avail himself of a 
mode of escape provided for him : and he equally peremptorily re- 
fused to listen to an] terms from Government, which did not in- 
clude all Ins comrades. His object, on the night he was arrested, 
was to i lake another trial at Cashel, which he designed to approach 
by a circuitous route. 



THE FELON'S TRACK 115 

The 6th of August was the date of Mr. O'Brien's arrest ; the 
13th of August that of Messrs. Meagher and (ri)nnohoe, and the 
7th of September that of Mr, McManus. Mr. O'Brien was taken 
at the Thurles station house; Messrs. Meagher and O'Donohoe, 
near Ratbgannon, on the road between Clonoulty and Holy-cross, 
about five miles from Thurles, and Mr. McManus on hoard the ship 
N. D. Chase, in the bay of Cove, on the 7th of September. They 
were each conveyed to Jvilmainham jail, in the first instance, where 
they remained until within a few days of the opening of the special 
commission at Clonmell. This took place on Thursday, the 21st of 
Sept., when the bills were found, but six days were allowed to Mr. 
O'Brien and the rest of the prisoners, to peruse the indictment, 
with copies of which they were respectively furnished. On Thurs- 
day, the 2Sth, the trial of Mr. O'Brien commenced ; that of Mr. 
McManus on the 9th of October ; that of Mr. O'Donohoe on the 
13th. and that of Mr. Meagher on the- 16th. 

Juries were empannelled, in each case, from whose prejudice 
and bad faith, verdicts for high treason were expected, even though 
the evidence only sustained a charge of common assault. Roman 
Catholics were, in the first instance, scrupulously excluded ; but 
after the two first verdicts, one or two were admitted, upon whose 
weakness of character, or genteel aspirations, the government 
might safely rely. It is but justice to say, that according to the 
law expounded by the Bench, and the evidence given on the table, 
any other verdict was not to be expected. But a jury differently 
composed, a jury of Englishmen^ with their country, their liberties, 
and their lives, periled to the last extremity by misgovernment and 
maladministration of law, would have spurned the law and the ev- 
idence, and relied on the great fundamental rights of humanity so 
flagrantly outraged by the government that then appeared as pros- 
ecutors. 

The scene presented by Clonmell excited much public surprise. 
Newspaper correspondents magnified the sullen gloom that pre- 
vailed, into popular apathy or national cowardice, as suited the 
bent or purpose of their employers. The truth was, the people 
exhibited, during the trial, a decent and respectful forbearance. 
Empty parade, or vociferous sorrow, would only mock the lofty- 
purpose of the sufferers ; and besides, the mortification which 
rankled in the public heart was too deep for utterance. The hopes 
of the people had been dashed, and they were stunned and stupe- 
fied by their fall. But so far from being apathetic, nightly assem- 
blages were held to consider if, even in that extremity 7 something 
was not yet possible to be done. 

But, if there were a show of popular indifference on the streets, 
the court house presented a very different spectacle. There every- 
thing manifested an intense bitterness of purpose ; the court, com- 
posed of the two most unscrupulous partisans, (Chief Justices Black- 
bourne, and Doherty,) and the weakest or falsest political convert, 
(Mr. Justice Moore,) simulated the uncontrollable emotions which 



llt; THE FKLON'8 TKACK. 

overweening loyalty awoke in the bosom of the Catholic Attor- 
ney-General. So for were their lordships swayed by the -pirit of 

imit&tiYeness, thai the most polished speakers, mistaking the inco- 
herent jargon of the official for the broken utterance of overwrought 
seal and shocked loyalty, mimicked his distempered language as 
the only befitting medium of expression for disturbed feelings such 
.is theirs. The simplest ami DQOSt usual facilities accorded to mur- 
derers and pickpockets, on their trial were rudely denied the coun- 
sel for the defence. The principles of law, recognized in England 
as sacred, were scouted from the beneh, and the farce of trial pro- 
ceeded through its different stages to the final denoument, with 
perfect regularity, every one performing the [part assigned him 
with unerring accuracy. 

Of the intrepid ability which Btmggled against this fearful com- 
bination of bigotry, prejudice, and passion, at the bar, on the 
bench, and in the box, 1 do not purpose to speak here. But I 
would be unfaithful to my trust, and unjust to the rarest heroism, 
if I did not record the fortitude and fidelity of O'Donnell, from 
when the menaces of the crown, or the frown of the bench, could 
not wring one word of evidence. In an ordinary man, this would 
be singular intrepidity ; but circumstanced as O'Donnell was, it 
amounted to a Roman virtue. One brother of his, a doctor, was in 
jail at Liverpool, charged with political felony ; another was hunted 
through the country, and another was in irons, involved in the 
same charge as the illustrious accused ; for them all he could com- 
mand his own terms, for much depended on his testimony ; but 
though doom were upon them, and a word of his could avert it, he 
refused to speak. Honor be his. His integrity almost cancelled 
the .shame ami darkness of those disastrous times. 

I can add nothing to the testimony that established the fortitude, 
manliness, and dignity of the prisoners, as beyond precedent or 
imple. That their bearing, one and all, was truly noble, friends 
and foes took pride in attesting." 1 It was a solemn and a glorious 
Bight; and men, through all time, will turn to that, Clonmel dock, 
to learn the inestimable and Imperishable value of sincere and lofty 
convictions, and a truly heroic soul. 

( )f the speeches that follow, it will be observed that Mr. O'Brien's 
was delivered before the fate of his comrades was known. No man 
had ever greater need of vindicating others if not himself. No man 
ever possessed in a higher degree the capacity and strength to do 
so. He was satisfied it was the last opportunity he would ever 
have on earth for explanation. Yet, lest any sentiment of his might 
injuriously affect those that were then, or might thereafter be on 

• The following is from the Freeman's, Journal. An eminent Queen's counsel, 
vrli<> iru presenl during the awful ordeaL was heard t.> give utteranoe to a .-■ 
meut so truthfully graphic that we record it in full : — •" Wall/' said he. his eje« 
full and hia countenance Bushed with emotion, "never was there 6uch ■ scene — 

never such trm- heroism displayed before. Emmett and Fitzgerald, and all com- 
bined did not come up to that — bo dignified, eo calm, so heroic. 11k is a hero." 



THE FELON'S TRACK. 117 

their trial, he forebore to Bssert the principles of which he was there 
the martyr, and of which he was more than ever proud. It was to 
the same unselfish sentiment he yielded, when consenting to say, 
" not guilty," to a charge ho would have ielt the greatest glory in 
avowing. 

I despair of conveying to my readers an adequate idea of the 
gloom and horror of the scene in which those immortal words were 
spoken. Death, near and terrible, was in the future. The recol- 
lection of ten days' infamy peopled the present with ghastly images 
of evil. Vindiciiveness inexorable glared from the bench. The 
dust around the feet of the speakers was laden with guilt. It would 
not rise to the briskest breeze, beneath the clearest sky, in light sum- 
mer air, so heavy had the tread of murder been upon it. And oh, 
to think when they closed their eyes upon this world, what deeper 

death they left their country Will no day of 

vengeance come, oh God ! 

One of those benefits of the British constitution, which excites 
the mortal envy of benighted " surrounding nations," is this, that 
the law lies to the face of death, in the usual question addressed to 
the condemned : " whether he had anything to say why sentence of 
death and execution should not be passed upon him V when the 
most conclusive reasons that ever innocence had to offer would be 
worse than vain. On the morning of the 9th of October, 1848, 
this barbarous mockery was addressed to William S. O'Brien, and 
he answered thus : 

Mr. O'Brien — " My lords, it is" not my intention to enter into any 
vindication of my conduct, however much I might have desired to avail 
myself of this opportunity of so doing. I am perfectly satisfied with the 
consciousness that I have performed my duty to my country — that 1 
have done only that which, in my opinion, it was the duty of every Irish- 
man to have done, and I am now prepared to abide the consequences of 
having performed my duty to my native land. Proceed with your sen- 
tence." (Cheers in the gallery.) 

On the morning of the 23d of the same month, the same for- 
mula was repeated to Terence Bellew McManus, Patrick O'Dono- 
hoe, and Thomas Francis" Meagher, who replied respectively as 
follows : 

Mr. M'Manus — " My lords, I trust I am enough of a Christian and 
enough of a man to understand the awful responsibility of the question 
that has been put to me. My lords, standing on this my native soil — 
standing in an Irish court of justice, and before the Irish nation — I have 
much to say why sentence of death, or the sentence of the law, should 
not be passed upon me. But, my lords, on entering this court, I placed 
my life, and what is of much more importance to me — my honor — in the 
hands of two advocates ; and, my lords, if I had ten thousand lives, and 
ten thousand honors, I would be content to place them under the watch- 
ful and the glorious genius of the one, and the high legal ability of tin 



118 Tin: PBLON'8 TRACK. 

other. My lord?, i an oonteot. In that regard I have nothing to say. 
)!u; | tvhicb no advocate, howe^r anxious, can utter 

for me. 11. sy, my Lords, that whatevi r pari 1 i 

t:ik i! through any struggle for my oountry'a Independence; whatever 

• 1 mayha in thai -ln.it career; I stand before your lordships 

new witl heart, and with a light conscience, read) to abide the 

: your sentence. And now, my lords, perhaps this is the fittest 
time that I might put one sentim< nt on n oo '1. ami it is tl. ling 

aa l '1" between thia dock and tin- scaffold; it may be now, or to-mor- 
row, or it may be never; but whatever the result may be, 1 have this 
sentiment to put mi record. That in any part 1 have taken, I have not 

'i actuated by animoaity to Englishmen. For 1 have spent some of 
the happiest and most prosperous days of my life there ; and in no part 
of my career have 1 been actuated bv enmity to Englishmen, however 
much 1 may have felt the injustice of English rule in this ialan 1- My 

h»rds, I have nothing more to say. It is not for having l< .and 

. hut for haying loved Ireland more, that I stand now before you." 

.Mr. ( )"Donohoe confined himself to a few words concerning his 
trial. 

Mb. Mbaghbr — " My lords, it is my intention to say a few words 
only. I desire that the last act of a proceeding which 1ms occupied so 
much of the public time, should be of short duration. Nor have I the 
indelicate wish to Ireary ceremony of a State prosecution with 

a vain display of words. Did 1 fear that, hereafter, when 1 .-hall be no 
moie, the country 1 have tried to serve would think ill of me, 1 might 
indeed avail myself of this solemn moment to vindicate my sentiments 
and my conduct. But 1 have no such fear. The country will judge of 
those sentiments and that conduct in a light far different from that in 

which the jury by which 1 have been convicted have viewed them; and 
by the country, the sentence which you, my lords, are about to pro- 
nounoe, will be remembered onlyaa the severe and .-oleum attestation of 
my rectitude and truth. Whatever be the language in which that sen- 
tence be spoken, 1 know tint my fate will meet with sympathy and that 
my memory will be bono 1. In Bpeaking thus, accuse me not, my 
lords, of an indecorous presumption. To the efforts I have made in a 
just and noble can-'. 1 ascribe no vain importance — nor do 1 claim for 
those efforts any high reward. Hut it so happens, and it will ever hap- 
pen so, that they who hnve tried to serve their country, no matter how 
weak the effort may have b sure to receive the thanks and the 

blessings, of its people. With my country, then, 1 leave my memory — 

my sentiments— my acta — proudly feeling that tb .indica- 

tion from me thia day A jury of my countrymen, it is true, have found 

me guilty of the crime ofwhioh 1 st 1 indicted. For this 1 • ntertain 

nottheslighl itmeat toward them. Influenced as they 

must have been by the charge of the Lord Chief Jui uld 

have found no other verdiot. What of that charge? a.ny strong ob- 
i it, I feel sincerely, would ill befit the solemnity of this 
seem-; but 1 would earnestly beseech of you, my lord — you. who preside 
on that bench —whan the passions and the prejudices of tin- hour have 
pejsi • i away, to appeal to your conscience, and a*k of it was your charge 



THE FELON'S TRACK. 119 

as it ouirbt to have been, impartial and indifferent between tbe subject 
and the Crown. My lords, you may deem this language unbecoming in 
me, and perhaps it may seal my fate. Hut 1 am hereto speak the truth, 
whatever it may cost. I am here to regret nothing I have ever done — 
to retract nothing I have ever said. I am here to crave, with no lying lip, 
the life I consecrate to the liberty of my country. Far from it : even here 
— here, where the thief, the libertine, the murderer, have left their foot- 
prints in the dust ; here, on this spot, where the shadows of death sur- 
round me, and from which I see my early grave in an unanointed soil 
opened to receive me — even here, encircled by these terrors, the hope 
which has beckoned me to the perilous sea upon which I have been 
wrecked, still consoles, animates, enraptures me. No, 1 do not despair 
of my poor old country, her peace, her liberty, her glory. For that 
country I can do no more than bid her hope. To lift this island up — to 
make her a benefactor to humanity, instead of being the meanest beggar 
in the world — to restore to her her native powers and her ancient consti- 
tution — this has been my ambition, and this ambition has been my 
crime. Judged by the law of England, 1 know this crime entails the 
penalty of death ; but the history of Ireland explains this crime, and 
justifies it. Judged by that history, I am no criminal — you (addressing 
Mr. M'Manus) are no criminal — you (addressing Mr. Donohoe) are no 
criminal — I deserve no punishment — we deserve no punishment. Judged 
by that history, the treason of which I stand convicted loses all its guilt, 
is sanctified as a duty, will be ennobled as a sacrifice. With these sen- 
timents, my lord, I await the sentence of the Court. Having done 
what I felt to be my duty — having spoken what 1 felt to be the truth, 
as I have done on every other occasion of my short career, I now bid 
farewell to the country of my birth, my passion, and my death — the 
country whose misfortunes have invoked my sympathies — whose factions 
I have sought to still — whose intellect I have prompted to a lofty aim — 
whose freedom has been my fatal dream. I offer to that country, as a 
proof of the love I bear her, and the sincerity with which I thought, and 
spoke, and struggled for her freedom — the life of a yonng heart, and 
with that life, all the hopes, the honors, the endearments, of a happy 
and an honorable home. Pronounce then, my lords, the sentence which 
the law directs, and I will be prepared to hear it. I trust I shall be 
prepared to meet its execution. I hope to be able, with a pure heart 
and perfect composure, to appear before a higher tribunal — a tribunal 
where a Judge of infinite goodness, as well as of justice, will preside, 
and where, my lords, many — many of the judgments of this world will 
be reversed." 

The sentence of the Court was then pronounced, as it had been 
previously on Mr. O'Brien. It was in the following words : 

" That sentence is, that you Terence Bellew M'Manus, you Patrick 
O'Donohoe, and you Thomas Francis Meagher, be taken hence to the 
place from whence you came, and be thence drawn on a hurdle to the 
place of execution ; that each of you be there hanged by the neck until 
you are dead, and that afterward the head of each of you shall be sev- 
ered from the body, and the body of each divided into four quarters, to 
be disposed of as her Majesty may think fit. And may Almighty God 
have mercy upon your souls." 



1J0 THE FELON'S TRACK. 

A writ of en«>r was sued out principally on the ground that the 
principles of constitutional law were violated. The House of 
Lords finally quashed the error and confirmed the judgment* 
Meantime, the country, or a mat portion of the people, took the 
last step in the direction ol debasement, l>y praying the Queen 
and the Lord Lieutenant for a free pardon. The petitions were 
spurned; but her Majesty, yielding to the powerful sentiment of 
abhorrence against the punishment of death for political offences, 
commuted the sentence into transportation for life. This final 
sentence \v;is carried into effect on the 9th day of July, 1819, when 
tlic ship of war "Swift" spread her sails and hoisted her felon 
flag, bearing out to sea, and having on board the four illustrious 
exiles. 

.Martin and O'Dohertv had been conveyed to Cork on board the 
Triton, on the 10th of June, whence they were sent to herd with 
common malefactors on board the Mount Stewart Elphinstone — 
at the time infested with the plague. This vessel remained off 
Spike Island while the cholera was doing its ravages among her 
ngers, and finally put to sea, with the patriots and pestilence, 
a few days before the departure of the "Swift." 



THE FELON'S TRACK. jof 



CHAPTER IX. 

CONTINUATION OF PERSONAL WANDERINGS DUNGARVAN — Til!. 

COMERAGHS MOUNTMELLERY KILWORTH CROSS DUNMANWAY 

— GOUGANE BARRA BANTRY BAY THE PRIEST'S LEAP KENMARE 

THE REEKS KILLARNEY TEMPLENOE DEPARTURE CORK 

BRISTOL LONDON PARIS. 

After leaving Quinlan's, as detailed in a former chapter, O'Mahony 
and myself agreed to separate for a few days. No reward had 
then been offered for him, and my presence only impeded his move- 
ments. We crossed the river Suir, and remained most of the day 
in Coolnamack wood. Toward evening 1 was conducted far into 
the county Waterford, where I was to remain until I heard what 
progress he was able to make. My host was the chief of one of the 
fierce factions of county Waterford, and bore many a mark of des- 
perate fray. I do not remember having met any man, before or since, 
who felt so acutely the fate of the country. He procured the best 
fare he could, and prepared my bed with his own hand. After I 
retired to rest, he continued pacing the room for several hours 
sometimes sighing deeply, sometimes muttering curses between his 
clenched teeth, and sometimes suggesting plans which he thought 
might be even then available and efficient to redeem the past. 
These plans were all of a character more or less desperate ; but 
some were exceedingly ingenious. A truer type of a Celt could 
not easily be found ; his very caution was stamped with vehe- 
mence. 

Next day but one I proceeded to meet O'JVIahony, to learn his 
success in his nocturnal interviews. I was unable to meet him ; 
but encountered a faithful follower of Thomas Francis Meagher, 
who was the bearer of a message to the effect that if he could be 
prevailed upon to attempt escaping, means could be procured for 
him. 1 expressed at once my entire concurrence, and desired the 
messenger should return to say that on condition the same means 
would be made available for those who were not yet arrested, we 
would all gladly accept of them. I ventured into a house, where, 
in early life, I spent many a happy day. Those of the family 
whom I had known and loved, had passed out of the world. They 
were a brother and sister, the former educated for the church, and 
the latter highly gifted and educated far above her condition. I 
never knew a woman, in any rank of life, of nobler character or a 



122 THE FELON'S TRACK. 

more heroic nature. She bad the richest store of womanly ten- 
i and kindly affections. She took the veil at the Dungarvan 
Convent in ver) early yonth, where Bhedied two yean afterward. 
[ asked for some food, and while it. was being prepared I wrote 
the following lines on a blank leaf of a bool belonging to m\ 
i friend : — 

- to thy spirit, gentlest maid, 

• 1. faithful, and beloved ; how oft, 
Within tlic circle of this glowing glade, 
Our mingling souls had 
And wooed the knowledge of our destiny — 
What is it 1 la fugitive, and thou on high. 

I el hopeless of the land I'd • i 

spurned by those for whom I'd die, 
Unknown when- your fond welcome gave, 
There's still ;i throb of ecstasy, 
Even though the latest 1 may feel on earth, 
In lingering o'er the scene where thou hadst birth. 

Where, wrapt by evening's crimson flush, 
We hoped, and felt, and breathed together, 

le the broad Suit's silent gush, 
Or resting on yon mountain heather; 

dared to look beyond the narrow span, 
That circumscribed the hope of man. 

How from the blessed spheres, 

Thou didsl bestow one look of love, 

'beer the hearts and dry the tears 
Of those whose only hope's above ; 
And win, beloved one, from the throne of light, 
One savil IUI long slavery's night. 

Or if this may not be. and 

Her old doom (lings unto the land ; 

If on her brow the brand be • 

And she must bear the chastening hand 

s, oh grant, sweel saint, to me, 
as i! ;n\ arm bad made her free. 

Ugusl ::. i 

I loft Glenn next morning, with still some hope remaining, and 
sought nut my friend to learn his success and prospects. He came, 
according to appointment, to a farmer's house in the direction of 
Rathgormack, bringing with him James Stevens, who was destined 

to be thenceforth the companion of my wanderings, privations and 
dangers. Ho detailed to us. nearly as 1 have repeated it. the affair 
at Ballingarry. When he reached the village of CJrlingford, he 
found some difficulty in escaping from the very men he hoped to 
lead hack to the conflict. Alter vainly making every effort, first 
to urge them on. and secondly (o satisfy them of his own identity, 

he travelled a distance of thirty miles, and took shelter in the house 
/fiend, where he hoped he could remain, until some- 



THE FELON'S TRACK. 123 

thinu: definite would be known of Ins comrades' late. That his 
stay was not of long duration, his appearance with us on Thursday, 

forty miles from the place of his concealment, amply ti 
That distance he travelled on foot on the preceding day. after 
having slept a night with a drunken man in a brake. He was 
even more averse than we were, to giving up the struggle, and it 

was agreed on finally that he should he allowed to rest in a place 
of safety ; that the messenger who had come from Mr. Meagher's 
friend should be dispatched with my proposal, and meantime, 
that 1 should betake me to the Comeragh mountains, in 
search of Mr. Meagher, while our other comrade should make a 
final effort to rally the remaining strength of the people. We 
would then be in a position to determine finally what we should 
do. Stevens and myself proceeded together as far as my former 
host's in the mountains, where I left him, and continued my route 
as far as the Comeragh mountains. I rested that evening at a 
place called Sradavalla, and early next day recommenced my 
search around and over the mountains. After crossing several 
minor hills, I ascended the summit of the Comeragh, called Cuims- 
hinane, which commands a prospect of nearly the whole counties 
of Waterford and Kilkenny, with a great part of Tipperary. That 
prospect was at once grand, beautiful, and mournful. The corn 
crop began to be tinged with coming ripeness ; but the potato was 
blighted, and presented a spectacle as black and dismal as the coun- 
try's hopes. This wide spread ruin was the dread work of an hour. 
On the morning, when Mr. O'Brien appeared in Carrick, that crop was 
the most abundant, promising, and healthy, that ha<fr been seen for 
years. Then it appeared from sea to sea one mass of unvaried 
rottenness and decay. Notwithstanding this, I spent hours looking 
down on the landscape, and mourning more over the mental and 
moral blight, which shed its influence on the public heart, than the 
plague spot whose dark circumference embraced the circle of the 
island. From heat, fatigue, and the effects of weak food. I dis- 
charged my stomach more than once, while decending the ranges 
of the Comeraghs. I again took up my station for the night at the 
village of Sradavalla. It was deemed prudent I should not sleep 
in the same house as on the previous night, and about eleven 
o'clock, accompanied by five or six men of the village, I proceeded 
to a house farther up the mountain. Here the accomodation was 
not such as we expected, and we were forced to return. On our 
arrival, 1 found my sister-in-law who was escorted by two boat- 
men from Carrick-on-Suir, and who reached this wild sequestered 
and almost inaccessible mountain village, after a journey of fifty 
miles. A sad change had come over our circumstances since 
last we parted. My hopes were then nearly a conviction, and I 
went on my way not alone without remonstrance or regret on her 
part, but with intense encouragement. She had heard of Mr. 
O'Brien's disaster, and a rumor of his arrest, had witnessed the 
prostration of the people, had heard I had means of escape propos- 



124 THE FELON'S TRACK. 

ed For Die, and came With what money could he provided. W< 
■pent that night together at the house of a women who had b 
lately confined, one endeavored to provide tea and eggs, and 

enjoyed our supper with as keen a relish and as high a zest as 
possible. I learned that Meagher Wat in the other extremity of 

the county Tipperary, and she undertook to convey my message 
to his friend a second time, while his faithful scout would endea- 
vor to discover his retreat, and induce him to join us. She de- 
parted on her mission, having to walk ten miles over the mountain 
roads. I returned to the place where J parted from Stevens, 
whom I found greatly recovered. We remained that night at the 
house of his entertainer, where we were joined the following morn- 
ing by ( I'Mahony. We spent the three succeeding daj s,in and about 
the woods at Coolnamuck. Three more anxious days and nights 
never 1 darkened the destiny of bailled rebels. Everv morning arose 
upon a new hope which was blasted ere night came on, by some 
sad intelligence. The news that reached us was partly true and 
partly false : of the former character was the account of our be- 
loved chief's arrest, which took place on the evening of Sunday, 
the 6th of August. In proportion as it nerved our purpose and 
urged us to desperation, did that fatal information scatter the 
agencies on which we were to depend. The most desperate 
hazards would be readily undertaken in that hour of gloom. One 
more effort we decided on, and the experiment was to be tried the 
next night. We heard Mr. Meagher also was arrested, and we re- 
solved, in order to satisfy ourselves of the correctness of this and 
other reports, to put ourselves in direct communication with some 
person in the town of Clonmell. We accordingly proceeded tc 
the neighbourhood of thai town, within a mile of which, at the 
Waterford side, we established ourselves, and remained two days, 
b day we sent in a messenger who* brought us correct intelli- 
gence of what occurred ; and satisfied us not alone that Mr. O'Brien 
Was then in gaol, but that he was allowed to be torn from the 
midst of a people for whom he had periled his life, without a hand 
being raised in his defence. We then returned to the scene of our 
former meetings, and met, for the last time, beside a little brook 
in ar the Waterford slate-quarries. My ambassadress had also re- 
turned, and there were present three or four others. The reunion 
was gloomy. But one question remained for discussion; was 

there any hope left 1 The message I received as to the menus of 
pe was dark' and discouraging. Nothing remained but the 

rds of some desperate enterprise. What had chiefly animated 
our hopes for the few days, was the knowledge that disaffec- 
tion and conspiracy existed in the ranks of the British army. But 
among ether intelligence of evil omen that reached us, was this, 
that the conspiracy had been discovered. Whether this were true 

or not, our mean- i if communication were suspended ; and, unable 
to Irani what had OCCUred, we naturally concluded it was the 
Worst. It is not quite correct to say, we, as far as the proceedings 



THE FELON'S TRACK. 125 

of these days in that neighbourhood were concerned. Neithe*. 
Stevens nor myself was in communication with more than the one 
friend, to whose honor and heroism we would commit the liberty 
or" the world. Never yet lived a man of more sanguine hope or 
intense patriotism* All the vigor of a gigantic intellect, aided 
by the endurance of great physical strength was tasked to the ut- 
termost in attempting to rouse the broken energies of the country. 
He generally spent his nights in interviews with the chief men of 
the surrounding districts, while his duty by day was to communi- 
cate the result to us, and secure a place of safety for the ensuing 
night. Our last conference was of course the longest and most 
anxious. There was no chance within the range of possibility we 
did not discuss. Of the intensity of our feelings, some idea may 
be formed by the fact, that the one woman who was of the party, 
whose sole stay on this earth I was, as well as the sole stay of 
her sister and a most helpless little family, never uttered one word 
of remonstrance against any project, however desperate, which was 
proposed. We concluded an interview of several hours, by re- 
ferring the entire question to the sole decision of our friend. After 
a short silence, during which the agony of his mind was extreme, 
he solemly advised and adjured us to provide as best we could for 
our own safety, while he, who was not so deeply compromised^ 
would maintain his position, and still struggle against our common 
destiny. If he succeeded, and that we had not left the country > 
we could return. But to advise us to continue in our then position, 
where an iron circle was closing around us, relying on the slender 
chances that then presented themselves, involved a responsibility 
which would be no longer endurable. We then partook of a com- 
fortable dinner which he had provided, and parted with sad hearts. 
The place which, as far as we could form an opinion, presented 
the greatest facilities for escape, was the town and neighborhood 
of Dungarvan. Thither we resolved to repair ; and about three 
o'clock, on the 13th day of August, we set off across the nearest 
range of the Comeraghs — Stevens and myself, accompanied by 
my sister-in-law, whom we hoped to employ in negotiating for a 
passage to France. A farmer and two women of the place under- 
took to conduct us the shortest way across the mountains, and 
provide us an asylum for the night, which we reached after a 
forced journey of six hours. We there parted from our guides ; 
and the people to whom they recommended us were exceedingly 
kind, and much more hospitable than their means would permit. 
On the following day our host became our guide for several miles 
across the declining Comeraghs, until we came in view of Dungar- 
van. We purchased some bread, eggs, and tea at a village called 
Tubbernaheena ; but while in the village we learned that the 
military and police were scouring the country far and wide, in 
search of arms, which compelled us to change our route and take 
an easterly direction. We crossed several miles of bog, and had 
to pass many a ravine ; but the worst trial was before us. We 



126 Tin: rooms TRACK. 

applied in several houses for the means of preparing our dinner, 
having travelled .'it least twenty miles, over mOOT and mountain. 

We applied in twerity places in vain. At last, half by force and 
half by entreaty, we prevailed on a woman, whose circumstances 

emed comfortable. We were, of coarse, unknown; and though 
we met many a rebuff] we determined to endure them, rather than 

real our names and character. During the progress of our meal 
Ave established ourselves in the good graces of the house-wife, but 
.die obstinately refused to allow us to remain for the night She 
directed us to a public house, where, on our arrival, we found a 
proclamation menacing any one who entertained, harbored, or 

assisted us, with the direst punishment. In answer to our inquiry 

the owner, who was a woman, po nted to the proclamation, as an 
argument against which all remonstrance was vain. We made 
three or lour other attempts equally fruitless; and when the night 
had closed around us, on a bleak, desolate road, I determined to 
call on the Roman Catholic priest, and state who we Ave re ; for 
while, if alone, we would infinitely prefer taking such rest as we 
could in the nearest brake, or under shelter of a wall, we could 
not think of submitting our delicate companion to the trials of a 
night, in the open air, during an exceedingly inclement season. 
With some hesitation and great alarm he procured a lodging for 
us at a farmer's house in the neighborhood. We saw him next 
morning, and his most earnest injunction was that we should leave 
the locality, which, according to him, was altogether unsafe. To 

tpe arrest there for twelve hours was, he said, impossible. 
Similar advice was pressed on us afterwards in many a safer asy- 
lum; but we learned to mock at others' fears, whereas, on this 
we yielded to an impression we felt to be sincere. 
Before venturing nearer to Dungarvan, we determined to be- 
rvices of another clergyman, who lived a distance of 
six o miles in the direction of Waterford. A ridge of the 

neragha lay between us and his lonely dwelling. Along this 
ridge lay a winding bridle-road, skirted by patches of green sward, 
and occasionally crossed by a sparkling mountain rill. Above us, 
"ii the hill-side, was a considerable bc_ r . where crowds of country 
collecting to their daily toil. A merry laugh or bois- 
terous joke occasionally rang clear in the morning air. The mirth 
went heavily to our hearts. The snatch of song, the unrestrained 

!:. the merry idee, broke upon the ear of the wayfarers like the 
mocking of demons. The consciousness that they then sped, with- 
out a beacon or a guide, over the flinty path of flight, to end per- 
haps at the gibbet, imparted to the voice of mirth the sound of in- 
gratitude. However, the day was brilliant; above us the clear, 
blue, unfathomable sky ; around us the bracing mountain air. 
th the breath of hare-bell and heath, and far below the 

oalm sea, Bleepipg in the morning li'_ r ht; and weariness, hunger, 
and apprehension yielded to the influence of the scene. .Many a 
time, ere passed the sunny noon, did we sit down to enjoy the glad 



THE FELON'S TRACK 127 

prospect, unconscious, for a 'moment, of the fate that tracked our 
footsteps. At length we descended the eastern slope of the hill ; 
and after proceeding some distance, through cornfields and mead- 
ows, we reached the mansion of the clergyman, wayworn and 
half famished, lie, whom we sought, had won a character for 
truth, manliness, and courage, and we calculated upon his unre- 
strained sympathies, if not generous hospitality. He was absent 
from his house, which is situate in a lonely gorge of the Comeraghs. 
We waited his arrival for more than an hour, and, through deli- 
cacy for his position, we remained concealed in a grove some dis- 
tance from the door. He at length appeared, and I proceeded alone 
to meet him and make known my name. He started involuntarily 
and retreated a few paces from me. After repeating my name for 
a few seconds, he said, " Surely you are not so unmanly as to com- 
promise me?" I replied, that so sensible was I of the danger of 
committing him, that I refused to enter his house, though we all. 
and particularly my female companion, sadly needed rest and shel- 
ter. After some time, he began to pace up and down in front of 
his door, repeating at every turn that it was indiscreet and dis- 
honorable to compromise him. Among the many trials to which 
fate had doomed me, through hours of gloom, of peril, and disas- 
ters, and even during reveries of still darker chances, which fear 
or fancy often evoked, I never felt a pang so keen as that which 
these unfeeling words sent through my heart. For a while I was 
unable to articulate, but at length. I said, " you are one of those who 
urged us to this fate. You gave us every assurance that, in any 
crisis, you would be at our side. We made the desperate trial 
which you recommended. We have failed, because we were 
abandoned by those who were foremost in urging us on ; and 
even now — here, where God alone sees us — you meet with re- 
proaches one who has sacrificed his all on earth in a cause you pre- 
tended to bless. Is not that fate worse than defeat — than flight — 
than death ?" " 'Tis a sad fate, no doubt," said he. My object, 1 
said, was to escape to France, and I called on him, believing he 
could assist me, as he must be acquainted with the boatmen around 
that part of the coast. He answered, it was possible he could, but 
not then, asked how he could communicate with me, pointed 
to a shorter route across the mountains than that by which we had 
descended, and turned in to his dinner, which was just announced. 
His table and side-board bespoke abundance, and frequent merry- 
making ; but we faced toward the mountain, hungry and ex- 
hausted, without being asked to taste food or drink. It need not 
be detailed how sore at heart we felt as we re-commenced our 
dreary journey. It was already evening. Dense masses of fog 
had gathered on the hill, and lurid streaks spreading far out on the 
sea, portended a night of storm and gloom. However, w r e had no 
resource but to regain the house where we had slept two nights 
before, which we supposed might be distant about seven miles ; 
and by gaining the summit of the hill before dark, we hoped to 



|js THE FELON'S TRACK. 

make OUT way easily down the other side. To obtain some food, 
of whatever kind, was an indispensable preliminary. The house 

t to the mountain appeared to be that of a comfortable far- 
mer. \\V entered it trembling, and found our expectations not 
disappointed. Bnt the housewife peremptorily refused our first re- 
quest, evidently luspecting there was something wrong, and unable 
to reconcile our appearance with the idea of hunger or distress. 
She bestowed a peculiarly sinister scrutiny on my poor sister. Af- 
vr some parley, we said we should have something to eat, either 
for love or money, and while saying so, we began to examine the 
locks of OUT pistols. Either admonished by these stern interces- 
or by a look of compassion from her beautiful daughter, who 
stood at some distance, she replied, we should have what we asked 
for, but only for love. Her daughters, of whom there were two, 
busied themselves in producing new barley bread and skimmed 
milk, of which we partook immoderately. We parted on better 
terms, and my friend Stevens was greeted with a smile from each 
of the lovely girls, which so influenced him that he insisted upon 
revealing our character and asking their hospitality for the night. 
After a i^ood deal of discussion it was agreed he should make the 
experiment alone. He returned and produced the military cap 
which he always wore inside his shirt. This at once produced the 

1 effect, and one of the young girls came bounding up the 
hill to invite us to return. It was arranged, however, that we 
should remain on a hay-loft until quite dusk, which we gladly 
agreed to. The host entered with us, and staid until we were ad- 
mitted to the dwelling-house. To me, at least, that hay-loft im- 
parted a sense of unutterable enjoyment. I was there enabled to 
support the drooping head of my sister, as overcharged with wea- 
riness and pain of mind, she sank into unconscious sleep. 

As night fell, we were introduced into a comfortable parlor. 
There we had tea and e_r<_ r s, with some punch. The family felt 
the warmest interest in us ; but at the same time they occasionally 
manifested evident alarm. The utmost precaution was observed 
so as to prevent our being noticed, and we only retired to bed 
when the hour of midnight had struck, and tie house was sunk in 
silence and solitude. During all that eight the storm roared piti- 
lessly and the rain tell heavily. Had it surprised us on the bleak 
hill, our wandering had that night ended, and the ravens of Cuim- 
shinane had feasted on our flesh. Next day the storm did not 
cease to howl nor the rain to sweep on the angry winds. About 
five o'clock, during a brief pause of the rain, preparations were 
mad:- which significantly intimated that we were expected to leave. 

Our host was well acquainted with the fishermen of Dungarvan 

and he solemnly warned us againsl treating with any of them. 
Betrayal, he said, would be certain. But he promised to accom- 
pany my sister next day to the town, where he would make every 
inquiry ; and if he faded, as he anticipated, would see her away 
OB the car ; in which case we were to try another and a far re- 




'^//// /,,,.., yZ^ 



THE FELON'S TRACK. 129 

mote sea-board. A certain newspaper of high liberal character, 
affected to bestow upon us intense consideration and deep com* 
ton. It had a guard mobile of reporters, some of whom con- 
trived to be everywhere and hear everything — especially what 

did not occur. One of them, with a keener scent than his fellows, 
discovered mv sister's track — made himself familiar with her per- 
son and apparel — and announced her movements with a mournful 
accuracy. He conjectured, not unjustly, that my haunts must be 
near the scene of her wanderings. Completely absorbed by the 
one idea of gratifying the curiosity of his readers, he seemed in- 
different to the conclusion, which, to a mind less engaged, would 
appear palpable and inevitable — namely, that what was informa- 
tion to our anxious friends, would equally serve the purpose of our 
watchful pursuers. 

It became, therefore, dangerous to have her continue any longer 
with, or near us. A hasty dimmer was prepared, and wc arranged 
to meet our host next day within a mile of Dungarvan, Never 
did parting look more like a last one than mine with my sister, 
on that occasion. For some time I thought she would be the first 
victim of our hard destiny. She seemed incapable of withstanding 
the agony that shook her frame. While sharing in the hardships 
and the hazards of my struggle for life, her heart, sustained by its 
own deep enthusiasm, triumphed over every obstacle. But she 
was returning to a house of mourning and of woe, where life would 
be one blank of desolation and stupor, to be wakened to bitter con- 
sciousness by intelligence of our doom. The sense of my respon- 
sibility, the full appreciation of the living death which, through my 
agency, had fallen upon a home as hallowed as ever love and joy 
consecrated to happiness, had burned up my eyeballs and my brain. 
i went forth into the recommencing storm, utterly unconscious 
of its rage and equally indifferent to fate. My comrade, who had 
no life to lose but his own, and who of that was recklessly prodi- 
gal, provided he could dispose of it to good account, stepped blithe- 
ly along and uttered no complaint, although he left behind him 
traces marked with blood. His terrible indifference soon restored 
my self-possession, and we found shelter for the night in a house 
near the spot designated for the next day's interview. Just as we 
arrived there, the chief magistrate and police had completed a 
search of the house. We entered as they retired, told who we 
were, and claimed hospitality, which we readily obtained. The 
night passed as many a similar one did afterward. Let our hard- 
ships be what they might, during the day, we invariably enjoyed 
ourselves at night, and went to bed without a fear. On the follow- 
ing morning we sent our hostess into the town for shoes and other 
matters which were indispensable to our further progress. She 
returned, evidently alarmed to death, having read on the walls the 
viceregal threats against all who harbored the "traitors." She 
scarcely allowed us to remain until the time appointed for the in- 
terview, which was of short duration. We were informed that 
9 



130 T1(, ' : raiOIPS TRA< 

do hope from thai quarter, and thai our safety for one 
hour was extremely pn is. This intelligence and b copy ol 

the World newspaper, completed the information communicated 
by our former host. 

lla\ ing laughed heartily over the World, and no less heartily at 
irm of our host and hostess, v. it od our longjournej 

about four o'clock in the evening, under very heavy rain. Our 
effort was at the public house, already mentioned, where we 

failed. We had some bread and punch, while drying OUr 

ea at the fire. My comrade became very ill; but even ibis 
did not overcome the obstinate repugnant hostess to re- 

us. We were compelled to leave at about nine o'clock 
having travelled some miles, 'midst cold and rain, m} comrade shiv- 
ering from fever and Buffering, we determined to sleep in freshly- 
hay. While making ourselves a resting-place in the hay. 
we were surprised by some countrymen, who recognised us as the 

Ql who dined on a former evening, but were coldly received 
arid rudely expelled. Upon consulting with the women, who had 
seen us. they conjectured we were some of the fugitives, and lol- 
followed, for the purpose of inviting, us to the hospitalities of their 
home. We accepted the oiler gladly, and were received by our 
friends of the former evening with the warmest welcome. The 
principal apartment contained two beds, one of which was usually 
occupied by the man and his wife, and the other by their grown 

, ,ters. They gave both up to us, treated us most kindly, and 
the whole family, men, women and children, watched over our 

until morning. The eldest son displayed considerable infor- 
mal ion and still greater energy of character. He evinced the 

st interest in our fate, and accompanied us for several miles 
next morning. It was Sunday; the cold and wet of the previous 
evening had given way to calm and sunshine: and we made rapid 
way along the slopes of the Comeraghs — thence to the Knocl 
down mountains, having one main object in view, — to place the 
greatest distance possible between where we were to rest that 
night and where we had last slept. The greatest difficulty we 
experienced was in passing deep ravines. The steep ascent and 
descent were usually wooded and covered with furze and brian?. 
Far below gurgled a rapid and swollen mountain stream, which we 
i without undressing, and always experienced the greatest 
relief from the cold running water. But toiling our upward 

through trees and thorny shrubs, was excessively fatiguing. 
•k in the evening we reached the picturi 
grounds of Mountl Abbey. We had then travelled thirty 

of mountain without any refreshments. The well-known 
hospitality of the good brothers was a great temptation to 

men m our situation, pressed by toil and hunger. out we felt 

that we possibly mighl compromise the Abbot and brethren, and 

determined on not making ouselves known. We entered the beau- 
tiful chapel of the Abbey, and ascended the gallery while vespers 



THE FELON'S TRACK 131 

We were alone on the gallery, and had an opportunity 
of changing our stockings and wiping the blood from our feet. \\Y 
remained upwards of an hour, and then set out, but little refreshed. 
We hoped to find refreshments in a small public house, on the road 
leading from Clogheen to Lismore. I entered the house rather 
hurriedly, and the first object that met my view was a policeman. 
I turned quickly round and disappeared. The rapidity of m\ 
movement attracted his attention, and, calling to his comrades and 
some countrymen who were in the house, they commenced a pur- 
suit. At first they appeared little concerned, but walked quickly. 
We accordingly quickened our pace, and they, in turn, began to 
run, when it became a regular chase, which continued four miles. 
until we disappeared in the blue mists of the Mitchelstown moun- 
tains, as night was falling around us. When we saw our pursuers 
retiring, we ventured to descend, and entered a cabin where we 
found a few cold hall-formed new potatoes and some sour milk. 
which we ravenously devoured. I do not remember ever enjoying 
a dinner as I did this. My comrade, who had suffered much from 
illness, was unable to eat with the same relish. It was night when 
we finished our repast, and we set off in search of some place to 
lay our heads. We met several refusals, and succeeded, with 
great difficulty at last, in a very poor cabin. We saw a lone her- 
on a cross-beam, which we proposed to purchase, and bought at 
last for two shillings. In less than an hour she was disposed of; 
and, as was invariably the case, we got the only bed in the house. 
where we slept a long and dreamless sleep. It rained incessantly 
the next day, and we were forced repeatedly to take shelter in 
cabins by the way-side. But, being excessively anxious to get as 
far as possible beyond the circle enclosed by our foes, we descended 
several miles along the Kilworth mountains. Towards the close 
of evening we crossed the river Funcheon. near Kilworth, by means 
of a fir-tree, the roots of which had been undermined by the rapid 
flood. We had spent the whole day in wet clothes. We mounted 
this tree, Indian-like, in the midst of rain, and dropped in the shal- 
low part of the river from the branches. We were unable to pro- 
cure lodgings afterwards until nearly eleven o'clock, and then not 
without difficulty. We succeeded, at length, within about a quar- 
ter of a mile of Kilworth, whence we were able to procure bread. 
tea, and beefsteaks. We w r ere very kindly treated, and next day 
accompanied to the Blackwater, at Castle Hyde, by the eldest bro- 
ther of the family. 

I shall not easily forget the delicacy, with which this young ma» 
requested, if we thought it compatible with our safety, to tell him 
our names. There are few requests which either of us would feel 
greater reluctance in refusing. He saw our evident struggle, and 
said he would be satisfied w T ith a promise that when our fate would 
be decided one way or the other, we would write to him ; a pro- 
mise which I redeemed the day after I reached Paris. 

This day I think, August the 20th, we travelled over forty miles. 



l£| THE FELON'S TRACK. 

along bog and mountain, passed within r few miles of the city of 
Cork, and then, taking B northwestern direction, proceeded to the 
village of Blarney; where we slept on a loft with a number of 

men who were on their way to Cork with corn. 
It is known to most people, at a)] familiar with the traditions of 
Ireland, that this village ii one of her most classic, spots. There 
is deposited the celebrated Blarney stone, a touch of which im- 
parts to the tongue of the pilgrim the gift of persuasion. So fa- 
mous lias this stone become, Dot only in Ireland hut in England^ 

that the most plaUBible fluency is characterised by its Same, which 
at once confers on such oratory the stamp of unapproachable 
eloquence. It must be confessed, however, that in many instances 
" Blarney" conveys doubts of the speaker's sincerity, as well as 
admiration lor his capacity. To see this talisman would be with 
me, on another occasion, an object of deep anxiety and most eagei 
curiosity. But 1 was compelled to forego the pleasure, by the fact 
that a police barrack loomed in its immediate vicinity, and at the 
other side was posted a proclamation offering a reward for my per- 
son. We could scarcely sleep, owing to the noise and hustle of 
the carmen, as they came and went, and loudly snored in various 
parts of our dormitory. But we were allowed to rest until 
in the morning, when we took a hasty breakfast and departed. 
It was a point with us never to walk along a road, and never to 
ask our way. We were now travelling through an open corn 
country, and our progress was accordingly slow. We felt, too, the 
necessity of not departing far from our intended route, and accord- 
ingly we called in, occasionally, to national schools to make the 
necessary observations on the maps. Sometimes w r e examined the 
children, and sometimes the master; generally one of us was so em- 
ployed while the other w r as noting down carelessly on the map the 
points of observation to direct our path. We crossed the Lee un- 
dressed, near the village of " Cross," and slept soundly in a church- 
yard on a neighboring hill, the name of which has passed from my 
memory. We then directed our footsteps to a small village called 
Crookstown, situated in a romantic spot on a branch of the Lee. 
We experienced much difficulty, and narrowly escaped detection, 
in entering this village, which is surrounded by beautiful country 
. through the grounds of some of which we were obliged to 
grope our way. We obtained lodgings, after one or two fruitless 
trials, in a very comfortable house kept by a farmer. The young 
family seemed to be rather tastefully educated, and we soon be- 
came fast friends. We passed as whimsical tourists, and delighted 
our entertainers with glowing accounts of the scenery of Conemara, 
Wicklow ami Kerry. We remained with them two nights, on pre- 
tence of being engaged in sketching the enchanting views in the 
neighborhood; and left, promising that, if we returned by the 
same mad, we would delay a week. Our destination was |)un- 
manway, near which a friend of mine lived, in whose bouse I 
hoped we might remain concealed, while means of escape would be 



THE FELON'S TRACK. 133 

procured somewhere among the western headlands. A short jour- 
ney brought us to this house. My friend was absent, but daughters 
of his, whom I had not seen since childhood, recognized and wel- 
comed us. We had then travelled 150 miles, and fancied that, as 
no one could think of our making such a journey without walking 
one half-mile of road, we would be safe there for many days. In 
this we were disappointed. It was communicated to us next 
morning early that our persons were recognized, and that half the 
inhabitants of Dun man way were by that time aware of our where- 
abouts. It was added, that the people were venal and treacherous ; 
a character which the inhabitants of that region of Cork invariably 
attribute to each other. We remained a second and most of a third 
day, notwithstanding, and enjoyed ourselves heartily, although our 
little festivities had all the air of a wake. We set out at length on the 
evening of the third day, having made one glorious friend, whose 
exertions afterwards tended mainly to secure my escape. We had 
expected letters from home before we reached Dunmanway, and 
received them there on the day after. They contained the con- 
centrated and compressed agony of weeks, but no word of com- 
plaint or regret. They also confirmed the intelligence which we 
had heard ere we set out, namely, that all our comrades were 
arrested, except Dillon, O'Gorman, and a few others, of whose fate 
we remained uncertain. Certain friends of the family undertook 
to communicate with clergymen, near the sea shore, w T ho were 
supposed to be in a position to facilitate our escape, while we pro- 
posed to visit Gougane Barra and Cuimeneagh, and, if practicable, 
Killarney, before we returned to learn the success of their applica- 
tions. We followed the stream that passes Dunmanway for several 
miles through an almost inaccessible valley, until we reached 
the southwestern base of Shehigh, the highest mountain in the 
range which stretches between Mallow and Cape Clear. 

Here we purchased some good new potatoes, butter, eggs, and 
milk, on which we dined satisfactorily. We then faced the 
mountain which we crossed near the summit, being desirous to 
gain Gougane Barra by the shortest possible route. A steep ascent 
gives the traveller fresh impulses and an irrepressible desire to 
bound down at the other side. It seems to spring from that prin- 
ciple of action and reaction pervading all nature. At the northern 
base of Shehigh, after traversing some miles of bog, we found 
ourselves entering the pass of Cuimeneagh. Though that pass 
had been recently immortalized in the unequalled verses of Dennis 
Florence McCarthy, and I had learned to love a spot where echoes of 
minstrelsy so soft and passionate had found a " local habitation." 
I was ignorant of its locality and entirely unprepared for the sur- 
passing grandeur of the scene, which, in the full blaze of a harvest 
moon burst upon my view. My comrade was even more startled 
than I, and we paused at every turn of that enchanting passage 
to gaze upon the masses of rock projecting over our heads hun- 
dreds of feet in the air, and casting their dark rude outlines upon 



i:i[ 



Till: FELON'8 TRA( k. 



The pass is a mile long, while in no one 

m in.inv yards distao either side. The road 

seems to lose itself every moment in the bowels of the mountain, 

i find B new av< : scape, and a more 

tic group of impending rocks of a yel more entrancing beauty 

than that you bad left behind, [n such a scene one could have no 

d | no -.mi r. Neither could be doubt 

truth any more than God's omnipotence. We Lingered in 

litude and drank the moonbeams as they strayed through 
disjointed rooks and fell silvery and glowing on our path. Our 
ie ended in a mistake, for we unconsciously passed the point 
where we should turn to Gougane Barra, then the scene of a cere- 
mony, half religious, half superstitious, as it has been during the 
autumn season time Immemorial. People come great distances to 
perform "stations'' on the ruins of a very ancient church on poor 
Callanan's " green little island." We were advised against re- 
turning, but told to seek shelter in a public house at a place called 
Bailie ■ a the banks of Lough LuB through which the infant 

ins. * We found the house quite full, in consequence of a 
fair which was to be held the Monday following at Bantry. We 

accordingly refused ; but we insisted on remaining in the 
house. We had some milk and whisky, in which we asked the 
host to join us, and after one or two potations, he and his wife 
offered to give us their own bed and remain up. We thankfully 
and gladly accepted the otter. I know not whether they recog- 

US, ami if not, it is not easy to account for the generous 
kindness that prompted such a sacrifice. The next day being 
Sunday, we proposed to spend it wandering about the lovely lake 
in the bosom of the hill, and to return in the evening to dinner. 
The day was an anxious one ; but we left no spot on the island or 
near the lake which we did not explore. 

The "Green Little Island" is surpassingly romantic. The old ruin 
of a mon istery, God knows how old, gigantic forest trees, bowing 
their aged limbs into the clear water, the shadows of the frowning 
mountain thrown fantastically on the bosom of the lake, form a tout 
ensemble of lonely loveliness rarely equalled. Then the play of 

"The thousand wild fountains 



Coming down lo that lake from their home in the mountains/' 

the scream of the eagle on the crags of Mailoc, far far on high, all 
justify Calanan's pn I for the spot which was n, 

"for the bard. We endeavored to recall liis tender strains and 
i,t mournfully of his sad prophecy,— alas ! when shall it be 
fulfilled I 

i shall be gone, hut my name shall be spoken, 
When Brio awaki - and her fetters are broken: 

minstrel shall come in the Bummer's eye gleaming, 

When 1- ang light on his spirit is beaming, 



ni: LCK. 135 

Anil bend o'er my ar of emotion, 

Where calm Avonbui seeks the kise is of ocean, 
Or plant a will wr< of that river, 

irp that ai 

We saw, at a short distance, the pass which so enraptured us 
the night before, but we resisted the temptation to revisit it. lest 
the glare of light may disenchant us of these sublime impressions 
of beauty it had made on our minds. 

We found a most comfortable dinner on our arrival, for which we 
could not account. In the course of the evening we learned casually 
from our host that he had spent several years of his life where it 
was impossible he should not have seen and known me. This was 
a disturbing conviction wherewith to retire to rest, but we trusted 
to our propitious stars, in which we had begun to feel a supersti- 
tious confidence. We were not disappointed then or afterwards, 
and next morning we slept in unquestioning security. We rose 
late and reluctantly and left a scene where we enjoyed more undis- 
turbed rest and real comfort, than had fallen to our lot for weeks 
before. The day became dark and showery. Crossing the bogs 
in the recesses of Shehigh, we were overtaken by a storm, from 
which we took shelter in some hay gathered on the bleak moor, 
where I wrote the following : — 

Hurrah for the outlaw's life ! 

Hurrah for the felon's doom ! 

Hurrah for the last death- strife! 

Hurrah for an exile's tomb ! 
Come life or death, 'tis still the same, 
So we preserve our stainless name 
From lossel of the coward's shame. 

Hurrah for the mountain side! 

Hurrah for the bivouac ! 

Hurrah for the heaving tide ! 

If rocking the felon's track. 

Hurrah for the scanty meal ! 

If served by the ungrudging hand; 

Hurrah for the hearts of steel, 

Still true to this fallen land ! 
Still true, though every hazard brings 
Some new disaster on its wings, 
Which o'er her last faint hope it flings. 

Hurrah for the mountain side ! 
&c. &c. 

Hurrah ! though the gibbet loom ; 

Hurrah ! though the brave be Jow; 

Hurrah ! though a villain doom 

The true to the headsman's blow. 
As long as one life-throb remain, 
We'll spurn the tyrant's gyve and chain, 
On gallows-tree or bloody plain. 

Hurrah ! &c. &c. 



1 rn.n.vs TRACK. 

Hurrah for that smile of light, 

W'liu li like ;i prophetic star, 

Illumined the long, lone night 
. B 

Gire us for resting-place the rath, 
Gh itb 

• it deaT raiile be o'er cur path 

Hurrah for the n ountain sale ! 

Hurrah for the bhrouac ! 

Hurrah for the hearing I 

If rocking the felon's track 

Being apprehensive that our former retreat near Dunmanway 
;vas disc V( red, and that we would he looked for there, we deter- 
mined to try another district, from which we might be able to com- 
municate with her who had evinced such sympathy for us. We 
sought the house of a friend of hers, hut found him so terrified that 
we could not think of forcing ourselves on his hospitality. He 
promised, however, to call on her and learn if she had any letters 
or other information for us. On our return, next day, he was 
SOmewhal d. He brought US a note from her, and letters 

from home. .My comrade's was a sad, sad blow. Where he had 
most trusted on earth, his application had been coldly received, 
and his most unlimited confidence utterly disappointed. Money 
was forwarded to him from other sources ; but the spirit that braved 
disaster up to that, broke under disappointed affection and 
' ed love. For some time he refused to take another step, but 
yielding himself up to the agony of shattered feelings, he ardently 
desired to abandon a struggle involving nothing but the life 
he no longer desired to save. From my knowledge of the country, 
and other resources, he regarded my chances of escape as favor- 
able, and his own presence as an impediment and a cheek. He 
was therefore anxious to relieve me of a burden, at the same time 
that he would free himself from a weight still more intolerable. 
In that he was mistaken. His imperturbable equanimity, and ever 
daring hope, had sustained me in moments of perplexity and alarm 
when r resource could have availed. During the whole 

time which We spent, as it were, in the shadow of the gibbet, his 
Courage never faltered and his temper never once milled. The ai« 
rival of our enthusiastic friend, who had stolen to see us, rei ived his 
spirits, and her persuasions reassured n?s resolution. We drove for 
some tinru in her ear, and after nightfall returned to the house 
where .<■ had slept on the previous night. A practice which pre- 
vailed in that part of the county ('oik greatly facilitated our efforts. 
It was icinity of the great routes of travel, the far- 

: the habit of giving lodgings for payment, the amount 
of whieh gent rally depends on the traveler's ability to pay. As 
our met ns, for purposes at this kind, ti ited, we 

were bu • ■ of welcome a second time. Bui this fact had a tenden- 
cv to frustrate our aim in another point of view; for it always ex- 
cited • irioiity, so that it was doubtful whether we would not be 






s 



« •■■-■i r 



I 







s^r/cL^ C^iX6*~u 



THE FELON'S TRACK. 137 

safer with persons who would provide for us at the cost of their 
last morsel, by confiding to them who and what we were. But in 
this district of Cork, the centre of which is the notorious town of 
Bandon, were scattered several families of Orangemen, who were 
intensely inimical to the cause and people of Ireland. In this 
very instance we lodged with one of those families. A letter that 
1 tore near the house was picked up, put together, and read, so as 
to lead to suspicion, which was immediately communicated to the 
magistrate. This caused the most vigilant surveillance to be exer- 
cised over the homes and persons of our friends. But before the 
discovers was made we were far beyond the reach of our pursuers. 
We had learned that the efforts made for our escape were unsuc- 
cessful, and that time would be required to effect anything, so as 
not to arouse the suspicion of those who guarded the coast ; and 
we agreed to conceal ourselves as best we could in some distant 
part of the country, for three weeks, and then return or communi- 
cate with our friend, who promised, meantime, to leave no effort 
untried on our behalf. A second time we set out by the same 
route. When we found ourselves on a hill-top, far from human 
haunts, we sat down as was our wont, to consider our future course. 
We determined to visit some obscure watering-place in the vicinity 
of Cape Clear. With that view we skirted the picturesque moun- 
tains that surround Dunmanway. These mountains present fea- 
tures to which the eye of one living in the inland country is little 
accustomed. The mountains of the midland and eastern counties 
are generally enormous clumps with little inequality of surface, 
and covered over with heath and weeds. Here, on the contrary, 
the mountain. seemed to be carved out into the most fantastic 
shapes, covered with white granite stones, whose reflections in the 
watery surface gave the scene an appearance of singular beauty. 
However stange it may appear, we lingered over these picturesque 
scenes in intense delight ; the more so because there seemed no 
limit to our joarney, and no definite aim to wdiich our efforts led. 
And a mountain-top has always an assurance of safety stamped 
upon it. There we could indulge our admiration for the beautiful ; 
there we could snatch an hour of fearless and unbroken sleep. 

Tut elements of danger began to lower over our loved haunts. 
T e grouse season had just set in, and occasionally the re- 
j 't of a musket broke our reverie, or startled our deepest sleep. 
Y c, even from this cup of bitterness, did we derive some sparkles 
of happiness. We could easily avoid the sportman's eye ; and 
when we w T anted anything from the lower regions, the vicinity of 
the mountains, and the business of the fowler, accounted for our 
presence and our wants, and readily gained us a supply. But the 
potatoe crop had failed, and the disease had already destroyed all 
the tubers which had approached maturity. This rendered it ne- 
cessary to look to other resources, and we contrived to procure 
bread and sometimes meat, which we were able to get prepared 
easily under pretence of being catering for shooting parties. 



THE I-1-LON'S TRACK. 

On the first day we made thia experiment, we found ourselves 
Deling into that dreary plain thai il out to th 

district of Skibbereen. Undercover of night we sought to pene- 
this desolate region in the remotest direction of th 

where we hoped we might remain unnoticed as counti \ 

belter at a small farmer's, and made a great manj in- 
quiries concerning the neighboring watering places, whither we 
said we were going for the benefit of our health. There were two 
young girls, the confidence of one of whom my comrade < i trived 
to win during the evening. She told him that her sistei had a 
courtship with the at of police, who usually visited there 

every day. This hastened our departure next morning. V. 
out in the gray dawn, and once again reascended the mount in, to 

ind take thought. The communication of the young girl : the 
sister's long delay, when she went to procure refreshments at the 
village, where the police sergeant was stationed ; the father's pur- 
suits, and other circumstances, induced us to believe that to follow 
the plan which, to a certain extent, we had unfolded, would be 
dangerous. We therefore determined to change our course. We 
then about fifteen miles south-southwest of Dunmanway. 
Adhering to our resolution of settling for a few weeks in 
village on the sea side, we purposed to substitute the k« . \ side 
of Bantry hay for the district we at first fixed on. The distance 
was about fifty miles, and we had to cross a plain several miles 
wide. We swept over this plain with a rapidity that taxed severely 
our exhausted energies, and lay down to sleep on the first patch of 
heath we gained on tin' Bantry mountains. 

We bathed our feet in a mountain stream, and having partaken 

light meal, resumed our weary journey. Night fell on us in 

the midst of a desolate bog on a mountain top. We travelled 

several miles in search of shelter, first in cabins and next in hay- 

COCks. Il was a dark, gloomy, and threatening night. .' lying 

ome lime on the road side, where; alone a dry spot was to be 
found, I forced Stevens to consent to make a trial of the town of 
Bantry, then a mile distant. The darkness and gloom 
favorable to the experiment. We entered t he town, and tra\ 
one or two streets, we knew not in what direction. On inquiring 
for a lodging-house, we were directed to the house of Mrs. Barry, 
who kept a large grocery establishment. We found accori 
tion and comfort. Next day, having made some small 

ugh the agency of the servant, and posted some letters, w 
tely walked out of Bantry by the road which seemed to jeau 
Ctly to the country. The day was misei .: oh-, and 
we found (Mir journey through the mountains, which overhang the 

beautiful hay, \ • ry unpleasant. We determined to reach a place 

I the Priest's Leap, which is consecrated by a holy tradition 

in the estimation of the people. They tell that in the times ot 

•ution a priest was set and sold in these fastnesses. Having 
veied thai he was betrayed, he effected his escape through a 



THE FELON'S TRACK. 139 

circle of enclosing pursuers, which it was deemed impossible to 
break through; the country people believed that he floated invisi- 
bly through the air, and alighted on the deck of a Spanish frigate 
then coasting these shores. 

An impenetrable fog descended the mountain, and the rain deep- 
ened into a torrent. Moored in the bay were two war steamers, 
with screw propellers; but they had all their sails unfurled, and 
swung uneasily to and fro. We, who were ignorant of their char- 
acter, frequently paused to regard them, utterly unable to account 
for their extraordinary movements. Believing them American 
packets, which had put in through stress of weather, we would 
have given worlds even for an opportunity of swimming to them 
through the waters of the bay. But the coast was strictly guarded 
by police and revenue officers. Notwithstanding this the vessels 
had for us an irresistible attraction, and we entered a mountain 
cabin, where we learned their real character. A second attempt to 
reach the Priest's Leap, of whose exact bearing we were ignorant, 
involved us in deeper mist and a heavier shower, from which we 
took shelter in a wretched hut, directly over the bay, and within 
about one mile of a hotel of great fame, frequented by travellers 
who are attracted to these districts to view the magnificent bay and 
the singular beauty of Glengarriff. Here we spent the remainder 
of the day. Eggs and potatoes were provided for us ; and when, 
as evening approached, we prepared to depart to the hotel, the 
woman pressed us to remain, and produced clean sheets, telling us 
they would give up their bed, and adding that she would be satis- 
fied with the fifth of what we should pay in the hotel, where, 
she slily hinted, our reception would be very doubtful in our then 
trim. We readily consented to her arrangement ; and it was further 
agreed that her husband should go to the hotel and provide some 
bacon, bread, tea, and whisky. 

We had not, during our wanderings, met two such characters as 
this man and woman, nor had we taken shelter in so extraordinary 
an abode. They had a single child, a girl about four years of age, 
whose dark eye and compressed lip already evidenced the pres- 
ence of those terrible passions which had burned deep channels 
along the brow and cheek of her mother. The cabin was ten feet 
square, with no window and no chimney. The floor, except where 
the bed was propped in a corner, w T as composed of a sloping moun- 
tain rock, somewhat polished by human feet and the constant tread 
of sheep, which were always shut up with the inmates at night. 
The fire, which could be said to burn and smoke, but not to light, 
consisted of heath sods, dug fresh from the mountain. A splinter 
of bog-wood, lurid through the smoke, supplied us with light for 
our nightly meal. The tea was drawn in a broken pot, and drunk 
from wooden vessels, while the sheep chewed the cud in calm and 
happy indifference. They were about twelve in number, and 
occupied the whole space of the cabin between the bed and the 
fire-place. 



1 |0 TUP. IT.In.VS TRACK. 

In that singular picture, the figure of the woman stood out bold, 
prominent and alone, absorbing, in its originality, every character 
of the entire. Neither she nor her husband could be said to wear 
anv dress. Neither wore shoes or stockings, or any covering what- 
ever on the head ; shreds of flannel, which might once have borne 
>f drawers, a tattered shirt of unbleached linen, with an 
old blanket drawn uncouthly around his waist and shoulders, com- 
pleted the costume of the man. His wife's was equally scant and 
rude, bni so arrang present the idea that even in her I 

the sense of fitness, the last feeling of froward womanhood, was 
not quite extinguished. The squalid rags and matted hair, by a 
touch el* the hand, a gesture, or a shake of the head, as- 
sumed such shape as she fancied would display to greatest advan- 
vhal remained of a coarse and masculine beauty. The con- 
sciousness that she once p' Mich beauty, fired at once her 
heart and eye. Her foot and ankle, which had been rudely tested 
by flinty rocks and many a winter's frost, were faultless; her step 
was firm ; her form erect and tall; her hair black as ebon) ; her 
features coarse, but regular; her brow lofty, but furrowed and 
wrinkled ; and her terrible eye dilated with pride, passion, and dis- 
dain. Her lip's slight curl or a shade of crimson suddenly suffus- 
ing her dark complexion, bespoke her feelings towards her hus- 
band. He was her drudge, her slaye, her horror, and her conveni- 
ence* Her ruling idea was a wish to have it understood that the 
match was Ill-assorted and compelled by necessity; though the 
last idea bespoke a youth of shame. The child alone was dressed, 
and with some care, as if she wished to assert its claim to a supe- 
rior paternity or better destiny. Among the predominant passions 
which swayed her, avarice seemed uppermost; and she scowled 
ominously <>n her stupid husband, whose rigid impassable stolidity 
seemed impervious to all pr and chances of pleasure and of 
gain. 

The rain continued to pour without abatement during the whole 
night and until sui succeeding day. The next night passed 

. in the same way as the first, save that I could not rest from 
a vagi ion with which this woman inspired me. 

Both the people of the house siept on the hearth-stone, without any 
bed. or. as far as I know, covering, save their rags. 1 had an op- 
portui oi overhearing their connubial colloquy, which was in 
Irish, and had leh ivi. ) to conjectures respecting us, our 

character, our object, and our money. It convinced me that our 
safety wot iised by any longer delay. During the 

pauses of their conversation. 1 endeavored to string together a 

rough draft of the stanzas that follow, nv a considerable part of 
. : h . with the accompanying notes, as they 

were published in the "People" newspaper. In the notes, or in 
the text, there is nothing 1 wish to alter. 



THE FELON'S TRACK. 141 

Air. — "Oradh ma Croidhe." 

The long, long-wished for hour had come, 
Yet came, ma stor, in vain, 

And left thee but the wailing hum 

Of sorrow ami of pain. 
My light of life, my lonely love, 

Thy portion sure must be, 
Man's scorn below, God's wrath above; 

A Cuisla gal ma croidhe. 

'Twas told of thee, the world around, 

'Twas hoped from thee by all, 
That, with one gallant sunward bound, 

Thou'dst burst long ages thrall. 
Thy faith was tried, alas ! and those 

Who perilled all for thee, 
Were cursed, and branded as thy foes ; 

A Cuisla gal ma croidhe. 

What fate is thine, unhappy isle, 

That even the trusted few,* 
Should pay thee back with hate and guile, 

When most they should be true ? 
'Twas not thy strength or spirit failed ; 

And those that bleed for thee, 
And love thee truly, have not quailed) 

A Cuisla gal ma croidhe. 

I've given thee manhood's early prime, 

And manhood's waning years; 
I've blest thee in thy sunniest time, 

And shed with thee my tears ; 
And mother, though thou'st cast away 

The child who'd die for thee, 
My latest accents still shall pray 

For Cuisla gal ma croidhe. 

I've tracked for thee the mountain sides, 

And slept within the brake. 
More lonely than the swan that glides 

O'er Lua's fairy lake.f 

* This may be a harsh and unjust opinion, if so, no one could regret it more 
than myself. In any case I wish to disclaim the idea of making a charge against 
the body of the Roman Catholic clergy, to some of whose members it applies. I 
yet fully believe that the great majority of the priesthood would willingly die with 
the rest of their countrymen in struggling for the liberty of their common home. 
Even of those who acted against us with such deadly success, I am sure some were 
influenced by pure and honorable motives : there were others, however, whose con- 
duct the noblest motives would fail to justify, or even extenuate. Should any re- 
cord of these dark times be preserved, they cannot escape their share of an ignoble 
celebrity ; and to that I leave them. 

f I hope my friend "Desmond" (a true poet and genuine Irishman, whom God 
long preserve,) will allow me to borrow his " graceful spirit people" to elevate to 
poetical dignity the otherwise unattractive and straggling waters of Lough Lua. 
it is near the lone and lovely passes of Cuimeneagh, which his genius has invested 
with graceful immortality, and his 



1 ;-2 THE - TRACK. 

i b have spumed me from their door, 

lo I loTe thee more and more, 
A Cuisla gal ma croidhe. 

vim the outlaw's brief career, 

And borne hie load of ill, 
His troubled rest, hi - 

Wiih fixed Buetaining will : 
And Bhould his last dan chance befal, 

K'cii thai shall welcome be, 

In death. I'll love, most of all. 

lisla ,u r al ma croidhe. 

J was awoke next moraine by a strange voice, with an accent. 

1 thought, different from that which we had been accustomed 
to. Our immediate conclusion was that we were betrayed. But 
a short time convinced us that our visitor had come to warn us 
that it' we remained many hours where we were, our fate would 
he seaied. He represented " Finey," (as our hostess was familiarly 
called, in derision of her affected pride,) in colors not very flatter- 
ing to her virtue, lie said he could positively furnish us with the 

ans of escape; described his resources as unlimited, and his 
interest in us as paramount to every consideration he had on earth, 
lie was an ecclesiastical student, and had left college to take part 
in the struggle of his country. He bitterly lamented that Dillon 
and ( I'Gorman were not in the way, that he might have the hap- 
piness of assisting in saving them also. Agreeably to his advice. 
we left our den and proceeded up the mountain. " It was Sunday 
morning, and there was not a cloud darkening the azure skv. 
Below us slept the waters of the bay, reflecting, in their en 
depths, the superincumbent mountains and ov< The 

sun rose majestically, broad, unclouded, full of effulgence, and shed 
his yellow beams, on a scene as lovely as ever met his burning 
eye. The mountaii rm very nearly a com- 

plete circle; the numerous peaks, from south to north, range at an 
average height - the vel, while a 

few ascend i We stood on the loftiest of all. 

[mmediately be] . n little to the right, med in the 

mountains, lay the unmatched bea I rriff. There are 

few spot rth of wilder attractions. The lulls around form a 

complete amphitheatre. On an island in the center of the valley 
is the cottage of the noble pr . accessible only by one nar- 

■• 

• rein. 

' by the sublime Boen< ry around it. 

bioh the •• green title island," and tin- ; as* are • 1 

ao happy ft ■.■]. at I dragged my weary liml igged 

jh. The only n • ', oould «li^ . soli. 

1-1 u,. to which an inn' .1 than that of my 

fri< nd, cuuM nut refuse a claim to be reeo the genius loci. . the 

• 



THE FELON'S TRACK. 143 

row pathway which winds through hillocks and passes various 
rivulets on rustic bridges. The grounds about the cottages are 
tastefully laid out in shrubberies, (lower-knots, green pastures, and 
artificial lakes. That which constitutes the chief feature of beauty 
in other landscapes, namely, an extensive prospect, is wanting 
here. From the cottage, or any part of the grounds, you can only 
command a view of the limited demesne, and the craggy and bleak 
mountain rising almost perpendicularly from its outskirts. But the 
view is so unique, and the contrast so exquisite, between the rich 
green of the Arbutus, amidst clumps of which sparkle the impeded 
mountain waters, and the barren hill-sides whose blue summits 
seem blended with the skies, give to the scene such an air of calm 
serenity and soft repose, as to leave the beholder almost without a 
wish to lriok beyond. 

By this time we had learned to lose all consciousness of our own 
fate, in contemplating lines of beauty such as then marked the out- 
line and radiated through every minor detail of mountain, ocean, 
and cosy lawn. We dwelt on the scene with enraptured eye and 
heart, and scarcely felt the time glide by which was to bring us 
our promised deliverer. He was with us at the appointed moment, 
and only preceded his sisters by about half an hour. They came, 
three in number, and toiled up to the summit under a hot sun, bring- 
ing each a basket with abundant and delicate provisions for a pic- 
nic. They were joined soon after by two other brothers, who 
kept watch while we enjoyed the delicacies of our meal, which we 
finished with some bottles of excellent claret. While we were 
thus engaged, Lord Bantry was at the cabin we had left, gnashing 
his teeth at the misfortune of missing such a prey. My comrade 
sang the newly-composed verses and others of more exquisite 
melody and far higher sentiment, within less than half a mile of the 
frowning and fuming lord. At four o'clock we took leave of our 
kind entertainers, the student promising to use the coming night 
in efforts to secure our flight, and a younger brother undertaking 
to act as our guide across the mountain and round the base of the 
Glengarriff ridge of hills to a dark gorge, at the county Kerry side. 
This was a most trying journey, at least twenty miles long, over 
precipitous mountains, and performed, for the most part, during 
night. It was necessary that we should not rest until we travelled 
far out of range of the locality where our persons had been known 
and our retreat discovered. Our young guide left us with friends, 
or dependents of his family, and returned to be in readiness to com- 
municate any tidings from his brother. Those tidings came fast 
on our footsteps ; but the message was to warn us that we were not 
even there safe ; for that Lord Bantry had all his tenantry engaged 
in searching for us. The despatch added that, if able, we were to 
be at the " Priest's Leap" at a certain hour in the evening, where 
we would hear the result of the efforts made for us. The tone of 
the letter left us nothing to hope; still we determined to test the 
doubtful promise to the last. Accordingly we set out for the new 



144 THE FELON'S TRACK. 

rendezvous. The distance was very lone unless wo crossed through 
mgarrifT This we determined to do, feeling satisfied that the 

last place we would be looked for would be his lordship's pleasure- 
mukIs. We paused to examine more minutely the exquisite 

enitj of that BCene, and learned from a game oral 

matters illustrative of our pursuer's character, while his adherents 
were tracking our supposed footsteps, over moor and mountain, 

far away. Arrived at our destination, we had to wait several 
hours, during which we were amused by our guide claiming fra- 
ternity with us, on the ground of being banned by the law. in con- 
sequence d a suspicion (a false one. he averred,) of having mistaken 
another man's sheep for Ins own. lie had an Idea thai we too 
must have infringed the law, hut in what particular he did not con- 
cern himself to inquire. The fact sufficed for the establishment of 
a L r "od understanding between us. 

We at last saw our female friends approach. They brought us 
another excellent dinner, for which we had a still more excellent 
appetite. During the time we dined, they informed us that every- 
thing was proceeding as favorably as we could expect, and that 
they had no doubt of success. When taking leave of us. however, 
one of them pressed a little note into my hand, and they disap- 
peared In the darkness. I burned to learn what the note contained ; 
and with the assistance of our new friend we found lodgings in the 
neighborhood, where I read that the student failing in his enter- 
prise, and being afraid to compromise himself farther, left that very 
night for college. He had to consult a clergyman, a very near 
ad of his, and we made no doubt the present step resulted from 
msiderate advice. 

This is written here, not for the purpose of disparaging the 
clergyman's counsel or the student's resolution. On the contrary, 
no doubt was then entertained of the sincerity of either, nor has 
there ever since been. There could be no one more disposed to 
make allowance for the'dillicult position in which both were placed, 
as well as all others who ventured to serve us: nor could we 
blame men for shrinking from peril, which at the best, presented 
no rational chance for us, while the effort involved those who 
made it in almost certain ruin. I had other opportunities of satis- 
fying myself afterward, that this clergyman, who visited us in 
the mountains, never relaxed in his exertions to save us. 

We found ourselves next morning in an exceedingly romantic 
valley to the north of the u Priest's Leap, 5 ' the property of Lord 
Landsdowne, where there ;i re many comfortable farmer's houses, 
and many others, whose showy exterior is sadly belied by the 
filth and discomfort of tin' inside. We spent the day with the 
man of the sheep, who promised to obtain lodgings for us at a pub- 
lic hou^e. wl \as refused. But during our stay there we 
,i farmer's son, who took us home and travelled with us the 

ile of die next day. We proposed to him and his sister to 

accompany us to the United States, having for some time enter- 



THE FELON'S TRACK: M.-, 

tained seriously a project of trying our chances to escape ns erni- 
its. He consented to be of the party, although we fully 
explained to him the risk of being taken in our company. He 
ssed from this that we were I in the attempted outbreak, 

and being sent in to the town of Kenmare to make some purchases, 
he could not conceal so important a secret, but sought out a friend, 
a true man, to whom he unburdened himself. We had appointed 
to meet him at a place called " Cross," about two miles* from 
Kenmare. We were repairing thither at the appointed hour, and 
were met, not by our trusty messenger, but the friend to whom he 
had revealed his important secret. This friend, alarmed at our 
temerity in approaching so^near the town, had come to forewarn us. 
His advances were met by distrust and menace, which pained him 
deeply. He remonstrated and referred to the fact of coming to 
meet us alone, when if he meant us injury he could easily secure 
us. Satisfied, at length, that his friendship was sincere, we con- 
sented to accompany him to meet another friend who had taken a 
different road in the direction of the mountain. He was known 
to us by character, but that knowledge, with me at least, tended 
to increase rather than to allay distrust. I had formed an idea of 
the man from reading speeches of his which appeared of an un- 
scrupulously partisan character. I was very soon disabused, but 
not however until I communicated to him my feelings in his regard. 
The best proof of my mistake is furnished by the fact, that my 
unnecessary frankness did not in the least check the enthusiasm 
with which he was prepared to risk fortune, liberty, and life in 
our service. Our interview was short. We dismissed the am- 
bassador who had acquired for us these new allies. They, or 
rather he, of whom I have last spoken offered us money which we 
declined. In opposition to his remonstrance, we insisted on re- 
maining for the night at a public house in the village of "Cross." 
He, to whom peril was new, could not understand our " audacity." 
But we who had experienced the disadvantages of asking for enter- 
tainment in quarters where such things were unusual, preferred 
the chance of escaping unobserved among crowds of persons simi- 
lar in appearance, and applying only for ordinary accommodation. 
In this and many such instances we determined aright. We 
obtained a comfortable bed and passed unnoticed. Next morning 
we set out for the southern slope of the Killarney mountains. As 
soon as we attained a safe elevation, we took a western direction, 
skirting those mountains and crossing the road which leads from 
Killarney to Kenmare, about five miles from the latter town. We 
then kept a westerly direction, and turned round the vast bog sit- 
uated at the western side of the road. This bog contains several 
thousand acres, and seems quite susceptible of reclamation and 
improvement. We ascended the steep hill at the north-western 
boundary where we slept for an hour or so, and then resumed our 
journey in the direction of the reeks. We purposed ascending the 
loftiest of these mountains, and not wishing to take the route by 
10 



HO Tin: TRACK. 

tp of Dunloe, we crossed die intermediate valley and b 

end the mountain to the north, believing it to be that which 
we had determined to climb. Alter haying toiled to the summit, 
we [di I in the distance the peak we were in search of, 

its wonderful elevation leaving n<> manner of doubt as to its 
identity. Between us and its base lav another broad valley. Be- 
fore attempting the ascent, we - a lodging at the foot, and 
leaving our coats behind, Ave began our task about four o'clock in 
the evening, having then travelled upwards of twenty miles and 
crossed two large mountains. The southern acclivity is more 
Steep than the northern, and we lost much by our ignorance of the 
best routes; but we reached Cairn-Tutal, far the highest spot in 
Ireland, about sunset. The view that presents itself from that peak 
is of the most extraordinary character. Stretching out into the sea 
a distance of thirty miles, is a jumble of mountains tossed together 
in the wildest confusion, and exhibiting no definite outline. At 
the east, far inland, lay the long ridge of which Mangerton is the 
loftiest point. At the north alone could we discern an extensive 
view, where a rich and well cultivated valley extended along 
Dingle Bay as far as Ballyheigh. But the grandeur of the scene 
lay at our feet. Beneath us yawned at every side chasms of seem- 
ingly unfathomable depth, whose darkness it was impossible to 
penetrate, as the sun was sinking in the Atlantic. It was really 
a spectacle full of grandeur and of awe, and we remained enjoy- 
ing it till the last ray of the sun ceased' to glimmer on the distant 
waters. 

At that hour, we were well assured, many a brain was busy, 
and many an eye set to discover our retreat. By the side of the 
public thoroughfares, on great bridges, and frequented cross-roads, 
detective vigilance kept sleepless watch, and fancied in every ap- 
proaching form, the doomed victims, who were at once to satisfy 
the angry gallows and its own excited avarice. Equally well 
assured were we that the most inventive and hazardous scrutiny 
would never track our footsteps to the dizzy height of Cairn-Tutal. 
One motive with us was to bailie all calculation on the part of our 
pursuers. When we found we were tracked and discovered, our 
first care was to consider how our enemies would be likely to judge 
respecting our future movements. If we had reason to suspect 
that we were recognized on a mountain, we sought shelter in or 
near a town, and alter we appeared in public places for a day or 
an hour, we kept the mountain side for a week following. 

We had, too, another, and it must needs be confessed, a more 
powerful motive. In either alternative which our fate presented, 
there was no hope of ever beholding these scenes again, and we 
could ii<>t omit this last opportunity of minutely examining and en- 
joying what was grandest and loveliest in our native land. We 
B, to leave no glorious spot unvisited, whatever 
toil it cost, or risk it exposed us to. Mountains, indeed, never 
did involve a risk ; but the lakes of Killarncy, which were much 



THE FELON'S TRACK, 147 

frequented at the time, could not be seen without imminent danger, 
unless by overcoming great physical difficulties. A iter we de- 
scended from Cairn-Tutalj we were so utterly exhausted as to be 

obliged to lie down in hay, within one field of the cabin where we 
to sleep, from which nothing could tempt us to stir for the 
night ; but we were assailed by swarms of small ilies of the mos- 
quito species, that stung us to further exertion. Although the 
owners of the cabin gave us their only bed, and provided the best 
supper for us, we were so persecuted by these flies, that we were 
forced to quit our bed before day dawned, and endeavor to shake 
off our tormentors by rolling in the dew and shaking our shirts in 
the wind. We set out early, finding the place utterly intolerable, 
owing to these terrible tormentors, although we had resolved the 
evening before, to remain a few days fishing in the lovely lakes 
collected in the gorges of the reeks. The day wastmisty and wet. 
This, we hoped, would afford us a good opportunity of seeing the 
lakes unobserved; for such weather would necessarily confine the 
tourists to their hotels. We accordingly directed our way to the 
upper lake, along ledges of rocks covered with tall wet grass, 
wading or swimming through outlets of the lake. We obtained a 
tolerable view of the upper lake, and minutely examined the seve- 
ral accesses to it, through the woods on the southern side. After 
spending most of the forenoon in this wood, we attempted to cross 
the upper neck of the lake for the purpose of skirting the base of 
Mangerton and gaining the summit of Turc Mountain, from which, 
is to be seen the middle and lower lake in their most varied and 
seductive loveliness. Few travellers ever see the lakes from this 
point, because it is difficult to attain ; but J had been there, and 
knowing its superiority over every other, I wished to give my 
comrade a taste of the exquisite pleasure derivable from a scene of 
beauty unsurpassed in the world. There is no spot, in or near 
Killarney, from which its wonderful scenery can be seen to such 
advantage. On 'the water, at Ross Island, at Mucruss or Glena, 
the view is confined to the scenery immediately around, with an 
occasional glimpse of the nearer mountains, which indeed may 
well satisfy thejmost exacting curiosity and fastidious taste, while 
from the summit of Mangerton, (the great mountain attraction of 
travellers,) but miniature forms of beauty present themselves, the 
great distance and height contracting the circle of beauty, and de- 
priving every object of its fulness and natural proportions. From 
Turc mountain, on the other hand, you seethe lake at your feet — 
all its islets, curls, cascades, are within ken, entrancing your 
senses. Standing on that green hill, it is impossible to divest the 
mind of the idea, that the scene is one of pure enchantment. 

But we were destined not to realize it. There was a police sta- 
tion immediately on our way. In our first effort to avoid it, we 
found ourselves, after much trouble, within one field of the door. 
We then made a still wider circuit, keeping, as we thought, far 
clear of it; but following a valley which led round a clump of hill, 



148 

topped Into its back yard. To avoid 
ventured rds 

Kenmare ; but when we were clear of the polii ck, we I 

-tain to gain the intended spot. Our 
fui and bleeding, and w wn on a rock in our 

, where we slept soundly, and I Buppog 

When we awoke we Were obliged, from the latem 

of the hour, to abandon our project 

During our killarney, we fondly indulged the 

m for our country. In the remote regions of the counties of 

•rry, the people seemed possessed of no political inl 

mation. They had a vague notion that an e.ifort was made to free 

the country from foreign thrall, and that the patriots and their 

caus .old by the Catholic priests. It was easy to perceive, 

with which they cursed them, that they— -althou 
never reached by a speech of Mr. O'Connell's, or an article or 
son" - of the Nation's — had cherished in their hearts the same im- 
perishable purpose and hope of overturning the dominion of the 
We calculated on collecting between fifty and one hun- 
| of the hardiest and most desperate mountaineers, whom 
could easily place in ambush near the lakes, to seize on Lord John 
Russell, who was at the lime announced as a visitor to Killarney. 
Once in our possession, we could have him conveyed to some in- 
accessible fastness where we could dictate terms to him concern- 
ing our imprisoned comrades. We had scarcely a doubt of pur 
>m- plan into execution, and our sojourn near Killarney was pro- 
longed for the purpose of becoming more familiar with the path- 
s whereby to escape to the mountains with our prisoner.^ How- 
success in that enterprise might have suggested or shaped a further 
course of aggression, it is now bootless to conjecture. The pro- 
ject r ed by the premier's abandonment of his intention. 

Having appointed to meet a person this evening, near kenmare, 
w b Wl 3 the latest papers and otherwise inform us of 

n jg iovement8, we proceeded in that direction, deter- 

mined to return to Killarney next day to prosecute our examina- 
tion of the locality. But the current news informed us that Lord 
John Russell had left for Scotland. 

We remained several days in the neighborhood of Kenmare, 
where we had daily interviews with the friend to whom I have 
■already alluded, lie spent all his time in endeavoring to d< 

ipe, and intermediately provided resting-places 

18 distances. We had the guidance of a young 

COUntTJ fine intelligence and true fidelity, who was ac- 

! with every foot of bog and mountain for miles around. 

\V, ral days rather agreeably, perambulating the raj 

i | ween Kilfademore and Templenoe, embracing a district 

aboui fifteen miles square. One night we slept in an empty cabin 

within a field of Kilfademore House, a fine old mansion, belong- 

to the father of Chlistabel, the mountain poetess, which IS 



P THE FELON'S TR.\ 149 

now only inhabited by the tenant of the farm, while the whole 
available military and police forte of the district, were drawing 
their lines of circumvallation around this which, as soon 

as they made the proper dispositions to prevent our escape, they 
burst into with the stealth and precipitancy of a robber band. 

We were most kindly received and cared for wherever our friend 
or his guide bespoke a night's hospitality. But although we un- 
questioning! \ reposed on the truth of all to whom our safety was 
committed, we felt the circle of our armed foes was closing and 
contracting around us, and it became indispensable to break through 
it. It was clear that our steps were tracked, for every night a 
search was made for us in one or other of the houses over which 
the influence of our friend extended. But our information respect- 
ing their arrangements was always earlier and surer than theirs 
concerning our movements. During this interval, when, although 
we traveled an average of fifteen miles a day, we considered our- 
selves resting, we received the kindest attentions everywhere ; 
frequently finding a rude mountain cabin furnished with excellent 
beds and every delicacy. But we pined to be more at large. We 
had interviews with clergymen and others, who discussed various 
projects of escape. Among the rest, it was proposed to my com- 
rade to accompany a lady — who was about leaving for London — in 
the dress and character of a servant-maid. He was well fitted for 
such disguise, being extremely young and having very delicate 
features. Besides this, he was supposed to be dead, having re- 
ceived a slight w r ound in the skirmish at Ballingarry. He obsti- 
nately refused to adopt the disguise, but consented to that of a ser- 
vant boy. When the matter was finally arranged, it was proposed 
to us to sleep at Templenoe, on the north side of Kenmare bay, 
where he was to be furnished with suitable clothes. Since the 
commencement, I did not feel the same sense of desolation as when 
these arrangements were completed, and an hour was appointed 
for his departure next morning. It was on the evening of the 23d 
of September. We spent the day with one of the noblest of fel- 
lows. He had beds brought far into the neighboring mountains, 
where he remained with us for the night. A cloud of sadness, and 
I believe chagrin, enveloped all my senses. I could not help feel- 
ing myself utterly abandoned. It seemed fated that even from the 
most kindly efforts my unfortunate position utterly excluded me. 
Stevens sang as usual, and endeavored to rally me ; but my mind 
had set in impenetrable gloom. One idea was uppermost with me, 
namely, that within the circle that was then drawn around me, 
there was no further possible safety. We parted before daylight, 
and I immediately determined on my own course. It was this : 
to assume the disguise of a clergyman and attempt to cross to 
France. The trials at Clonmell were approaching, and I concluded 
that they would engross the entire attention of Government, and 
.would even require the presence of the whole corps of detectives 
who were acquainted with my person and were then on my track. 



711 B rELOU s ti: I 

: ted my intention to the friend to whose hospitality I 

was then indebted. He co it with epreal earnestness, and 

could not be persuaded of its practicabiiil 
and he offered to place b horse upon bich he set great value, at 

mj disposal. Just as we ; u" final arrangements and had 

despatched a messenger to Kenmare to provide the disguise, Ste* 
vena returned, wet, weary, and hs He was in the worst 

spirits : hut r admitted of no delay. The lady with whom 

he Was to travel had to stay one day in Cork, and to overtake her 

there was the only chance left. There was only one possible way 
this— to give him the horse and let 1dm ride on to Cork. 
f at once agreed, and he immediately set oiF. The loss of the 
horse imposed on me the difficulty of a journey on foot to Cork, 
and this rendered the assistance of a man to carry my disguise — 
who would take a different route from myself — indispensable. Our 
friend who, in ^ivin^ his favorite horse to Stevens, told him to try 
and sell him in Cork and put the money in his pocket, provided 
me with another horse and car, by which my ! to be 

brought about forty miles. Having settled all preliminaries, he 

\ ed me to a cabin on the hills, where lie provided an < 
lent dinner, and left me to my musings. 

They were, it may be well conceived, not of the gayest charac- 
ter. The responsibility and hazards of the attempt before me, 
narrowed the chances of my destiny to the one. alternative, and I 

ould not shake off gloomy phantoms which represented - 
phase of the last bloody drama which was to close the career of 

who loved, too dearly, our ill-fated land. But, come what 
might, my purpose was definitively fixed. I spent the evening in 
the deepest gloom, which I endeavored to dissipate by composing 
the following stanzas, suggested at the time by involuntary visions 
of my wife and children at the foot of the gallows: 

Tin: OUTLAWS w:; 

-. with her head od her hand, 
'While she prays, in her heart, to the Ruler above, 
To protect and to guide to some happier land, 

joj of her soul and the sp rose of her lo 
And sh, . ber pulses, so wild in their play, 

The Blow progr< sa of ti: 
And she lists to the wind, as 'tis D 
ems ti the chaunl i 

Then alien does she -tart in her «tMiL r : r U' • with fear, 

■ the w hi roera 01 evi iv one round. 
brushes away, hah' indignant, the 
h, the* unbidden, at every frei 

lie the task — 
in her i h''i L, and the rent in her heart 
But her neighbors grow pale as the] the mask, 

a more low ly and slowl] I art. 



THE FELON'S TRACK 151 

When her babes are at rest will she breathe to their breath, 

And keep viu r i!, how wistfully, over their sleep, 
As it mirrors, poor mourner, the stillness of death, 

And she Btirs them, and calls, for she deems it too deep ; 
But a lc : i i 1 1 does she hush them, first telling them pray, 

Till at Length overcharged by the tears yet unshed, 
Will she sink, and as consciousness passes away, 

her pale furrowed cheek, see the hectic o'erspread. 

Slowly thus, day by day, does the fever-fire trace 

Its incessant course down her fast-withering cheek, 
Till the smile that made light in the glow of her face, 

But the faint, fading glimpses of vigor bespeak, 
And her reason will fitfully pass into night — 

Into night even deeper than that of the blind, 
As the shade of the gibbet-tree looms in her sight, 

And she fancies a death-scream in the echoing wind. 

In the house where I slept — as indeed in every house of the 
same character in the county — the whole stock of the family, con- 
sisting chiefly of cows and sheep, were locked in at night. Such 
was the extreme poverty of the people that they would not be 
otherwise safe. The weather was excessively wet, and, for the 
season, cold. There was a slight partition between the room 
where my bed was and the kitchen, where there were three cows, 
a man, his wife and four children. It is impossible to convey any 
idea of the sensations which crowd upon one in such a scene. I 
fell asleep at last, lulled by the heavy breathing and monotonous 
ruminating of the cows. Never was deeper sleep. On being 
awakened next morning by my watchful friend, it required some 
time before I could satisfy myself of my position. An excellent 
breakfast was provided for me, and I parted from my stout-hearted 
and magnanimous ally. He had sent my baggage, and also pro- 
vided me with a guide who would lead me across the mountains. 
He taught me the password of his clan, which I was to use on 
certain contingencies. The morning was fearfully wet, and we 
did not travel many miles before we were wet to the skin. The 
circumstance was the most auspicious that could occur, as it ena- 
bled us to pass unobserved. 

Besides this, it facilitated the task of crossing streams, which 
we always did precisely as if they were dry land. One river only 
opposed a serious barrier to us — that which enters Kenmare bay. 
It was greatly swollen, and rushed fiercely over precipitous rocks. 
At the same time, even in the rain and tempest, to cross the bridge 
was not to be thought of. The guide pointed out a house belong- 
ing to one of our friend's clan, who immediately provided a horse 
and accompanied us to a ford. When we reached the ford he hes- 
itated to cross, so deep and rapid was the flood. No persuasion 
could induce him to make the experiment. I had no choice left 
but to trust myself to chance. I faced the animal against the cur- 
rent, and forcing him to make his best efforts to mount the stream, 
we were carried directly across. The owner of the horse said he 



152 J TIIE FELON'S TRACK. 

would come back of bis cord. I turned him into the stream, 

and when half way across, he was borne headlong over a preci- 
vrhere I concluded b< es. Another horse 

tely procured, by a man who had no fears, to bring 
: but the latter was so terrified that he made him- 
attempted the age. As he was es- 

sential to in*' in consequence of the ments made al)out my 

leavored to rouse him. H on for several 

mile- rly unconscious where he was • When 

1 found him incapable of directing me, 1 endeavored to procure 
sonic food for him, and with that view proceeded to a mountain 
hut, but before 1 reached it, he sank down utterly exhausted and 

s unable even to articulate the name of the 

to whose house he was directed to take me, or the locality where 

he lived. It was only from circumstances and a dim recollection 

of the name that I was able to apprise the owner of the cabin 

whither I was bound; and after all, much remained for the exer- 

icity, which was not long at fault. We brought my 

old guide to the cabin, thrown acrofi anew, 

guided by the dweller on the hills. He forced me to mount the 

pony, and led the way over th< He bounded from rock to 

.villi the agility of a deer, though the rton< ere I irn as 

flint, and he barefooted. He was a man of powerful proportions 

and extreme activ: pony, on the other hand, crept his way 

igh narrow pathways, worn by the rain. In this way we 

d two considerable mountains, and, leaving the pony at the 

summit of the last, I pursued my companion's flight down the slope 

with the b< 1 my stiffened limbs could be forced to. Arriv- 

. er a valley which is called, I think, Branlieu, situated in a 

:ii direction from Gougane Barra, he pointed to a lone house 

at the extremity of the valley, as : nation. It was about 

four o'clock, but the rays of the sun had ceased to irradiate this 

gloomy valley, over which hung tie f night. At the 

em side the mountain was steep as a wall, and down from tin 

mit dashed headlong torrents, swelled by the morning's rain. The 

waters gleamed like sheeted ice through the haze, and their roar 

fell upOD the ear with a dull sense of loneliness ami pain. On the 

a slope wound a new road, one of those heartless experi- 

which the inventive genius of the board of work in Ireland 

!uted for the exploded trial of prolong 

soup and chained .spoons. On these roads the people were 

amount of work, and live on the 

least possible quantity of food. Hut, althoi >ions 

<>f blood, the roads opened new and fruitful 

\ in these mountain valleys, only frequented by 

the footsteps of the sportsman, or scanned by the i ye of the vol 

of pleasure. I here I called was intended 1 aide. 

I urn for hospitality at OB d on 

pronouncing t! rord of mv host by the sea. The cabin — it 



TIIE FELON'S TRACK. 153 

was literally such — was in the most filthy state. The dung of the 
cattle was not removed for days, and half naked children squatted 
in it as joyously as if they rolled on richest carpets* The house- 
wile merely replied to^ny question in the affirmative. But she im- 
mediately proceeded, with the help of two little girls, to remove 
the tilth. I was so fatigued and hungry that I could willingly 
postpone the process of cleaning for the sake of providing any 
sort of food. I was doomed to disappointment. No appearance 
of supper interrupted the busy operation, until the dung was re- 
moved, and the iloor drained. I retired, and endeavored to ascend 
the eastern hill, to a point where I could catch a glimpse of the 
setting sun. 

On my return I found the owner 'of the house, a man of 
giant frame and noble features. His dress bespoke a taste or pur- 
suit incompatible with the wild mountain destiny stamped upon the 
external aspect of his home and family. His wife spoke a few 
words in Irish, explaining my presence, to which he answered that 
I was welcome. Supper was at length prepared, when he drew 
from a basket a few of the finest trout I ever saw. He cleaned and 
fried them with his own hands, as if the operation were above the 
capacity of his wife, who performed the other culinary duties with 
silent assiduity. It might be owing to hunger, it might be owing 
to the actual superiority of the fish, or it might be owing to the 
mode of cooking, but it seemed to me as if I never tasted anything 
of equal flavor to these trout. The entertainment was ended with 
some boiled new milk, slightly curdled, a delicacy little known in 
the circle of fashion, but never surpassed either in that or any 
other. Some fresh hay was procured and strewn on an article of 
furniture common in the houses of the Kerry peasantry, called a 
" settle." It is a sort of rude sofa, made of common deal timber. 
On this " settle" my host prepared my bed of new-mown hay, 
barricaded with old chairs and a table against the assaults of the 
hungry animals. I had not long lain down when a man entered; 
(the door consisted of a pair of tongs, so placed as to prevent the 
egress of the cattle,) lay at full length on the table, and fell fast 
asleep. In an hour or so afterward, there came another, who 
groped his way over the cattle, and, sweeping the fire from the 
hearth, lay down to sleep in peace. This man slept uneasily, and 
groaned heavily, as if some terrible sense of guilt or fear pressed 
against his heart. 

I had a vague feeling of uneasiness, not free from alarm, but the 
hearty snoring of the one, and the fitful complaints of the other of 
my bedfellows died away on my ear, and I too shared their uncon- 
sciousness in deep sleep. The man who brought my baggage 
arrived early next morning. My host soon provided a good sub- 
stantial breakfast, — excellent new potatoes, which had escaped the 
blight, butter, new milk, and a slice of the flesh of fried badger. 
He then proposed to accompany us with his son, aged about thir- 
teen, who by some inexplicable privilege seemed exempt from any 



|54 iOIPS TRACK. 

portion of the drudgery which was the lot of the family. The 
other man who brought the • was persuaded to leave his 

hone and car. and accompany us with [DV bundle, as far as the 

summit (4* the hill. To climb the Bteepesr*mountain side had be- 

i e an amusement to me, and we ascended the one then before 

merrily, our host relating many anecdotes of sportmansbip, and 
tiling the startling incidents and wild rapture of badger-hunting. 
m the summit we commanded a view of the country for miles 
a, :d. •■ Here we :uv." said our h< st, " higher than the proudest 

of your enemies." lie then traced the route ot' the man with the 
bundle, through the open plain, and by the nearest way; and turn- 
ing to me, I '• You must not go in the same direction, for 

ry yard of it Follow my sou,'' he said, and turning to 

the DOy, he named several points in the path whereby he should 
conduct mo, *■ Lead Mr. Doheny Bafely," he concluded, '-and re- 

nU ryou are the son of ." In utter astonishment I inquired 

how he knew me, and he answered by waving his hand in the di- 
rection of the boy, who ha I bounded off and cely percep- 
tible above the tail heath. I soon overtook him, and as we went 
I learned that my two companions during the night were 
also evading the law's pursuit. One of them he d as hav- 
ing killed a man by accident, and ever alter leading the life of a 
M poor wild goose."' I made no doubt but this was he whose spirit 
seemed so heavily laden. We had a couple of terriers of the truest 
breed, whose sudden discovery of a badger interrupted our con- 
versation and impeded our journey. The young hunter became 
delirious with joy. His encouraging cries to the dogs were broken 
outbursts of wildest rapture; and when the game took shelter in 
his mace den, he would dash himself against the rocks with 
the same reckless vehemence as his dogs, who, in their rage, at- 
tempted to bite away the hard mountain stones. 

He left the spot with the utmost reluctance, after venting 

i of vengeance against the head of the poor badger, to which 
he promised traction on the oc< f their next meeting. 

We quickly descended in the direction of Gougane Barra, where 
he parted fr intly refusing a half crown which I 

ed him. 
Once more I found myself on the s1ojx?s of Shehigh. in sight of 
Lough I.ua. My immediate object was to place myself in commu- 
nication with my lady friend at Dunmanway. I was extremely 
anxious to sec her. 1 wanted to procure through her some things to 

plete my costume as a disguised priest, and finally ted 

to learn through her BOme if my family. With the view of 

ing her iii il ■ safest retreat, 1 determined to conceal myself in 
a wood belonging to a -Mr. CPLeary, at a -place called Coolmoun* 
tain. I gain the friendship <>i a man in the neigh- 

borhood, of whom 1 had learned the highest cl for probity. 

It was necessary to confide in him fully ; for his fidelity to his em- 
ployer might induce him to be' ray me. ii' he suspected thai my flight 



THE FELON'S TRACK. 155 

occasioned by moral guilt. He did not disappoint me. At 
once he entered into all my plans, and immediately Bent his wife 
with a message to Dunmanway. The distance was about six 
miles ; and the utmost caution was necessary, for the police authori- 
ties, baffled in all their calculations concerning my retreat, and 
deceived in even word of the information they were able to pur- 
had determined on making simultaneous searches in all 
quarters of the country, so that scarcely a house remained in this 
vicinity that had not tfie honor of a domiciliary visit. My friend, 
too, who during the past three weeks had made various attempts 
to see me, and had gone on to Kenmare for that purpose, was con- 
tinually dogged, and arrested three or four times. On one occa- 
sion they stripped her nearly naked, searching for papers. She at 
once saw that to see me would be attended with danger ; but she 
wrote a hurried note, and despatched it by another messenger, as 
well as a large packet of letters from home. In these letters I was 
adjured to continue the disguise of a peasant in whatever attempts 
I made. She, too, strongly objected to my proposed plan, and 
communicated to me a project of escaping which was suggested 
by a friend of hers at Cork, whither she had gone in her anxiety. 
His plan was that I should proceed to Cork, that very night, and 
take up my residence at some obscure lodging-house, until -he could 
find means of stowing me in a coal vessel, which would take me as 
far as Wales. If I agreed to this proposal, I was to be at Crooks- 
town, (already mentioned in this narrative,) at six o'clock that, 
evening, where I would meet three men who were to conduct me 
by a safe route to Cork. 

When I received this information it was four o'clock, and the 
distance to Crookstown was at least seventeen miles. The plan 
was one of which 1 could not approve ; but it would be invaluable 
to me to have a safe asylum in Cork, for any project I might finally 
decide on. I accordingly communicated to my man of confidence 
the difficulty I found myself in, and requested he would procure a 
horse and car which I could drive along the high road, hoping to 
reach Crookstown before the promised guide would have left. He 
suggested the man at whose house I stopped on a former evening. 
Thither both of us repaired, after having completed my costume, 
such as is generally worn by the lowest Cork peasants — literally 
rags. We got the horse and car, but before the arrangements for 
our departure were made it was past the hour when I should be at 
Crookstown. A servant boy who led the horse was my companion. 
When we arrived at Crookstown it was eleven o'clock, and we 
found no trace of the messengers. Nothing remained but to try 
and get on to Cork. I proposed the journey to the boy; but he 
resolutely refused. I affected to acquiesce, and asked him to drink 
something in a public house, which was kept open for the accom- 
modation of carriers, of whom there are numerous numbers at that 
season of the year. He soon yielded to the influence of milk punch, 
and allowed me to do as I pleased. We proceeded along the great 



VCK. 

thoi an ( mpty butter cask in the car. We passed 

patrolling parties in the road, and iwnwev 

citj of ( fork ; the boy sleeping in the car, and the h< 
ie. 1 paid at the custom-gate for my butter, and passed on 
city unnoticed. \ entle tap • .tle- 

m adertook t<> have meoo I out of the country, to the 

duced myself; was admit . o a l>ed- 

Brything was prepared for my reception. Tims I 
found myself in the . 1 of the city of Cork, while the strict- 

ras made for me in every cabin on the mountains of 
j and the western shore. 

secure in my then retreat. During the day I lea 
that the men who were to conduct me safely to Cork were arrested 
times on their way hack. 
In my sojourn for two days and nights in the woods of Cool- 
mountai i eived attentions for which it would bo shameful not 

Tatitude. Although the crisis of my fate was so 
at hand, L felt some hours of unalloyed pleasure in its shade. 
id leisure to peruse my li m home, so full of courage, 

hope and love; and to consider well the different proposals a 

ted by others and contemplated by myself. 

ther had cleared up and there was a succession of brilliant 

days. I employed my evenings in composing the following 

two pieces ; and after nightfall 1 was visited by some friends, with 

ped delicious champaigne, till a late hour, 'neath the 

calm watchfulness of a brilliant harvest moon. 

EIBLIN AR1 

I sang thee otherjla 

ID aruin. 
But these were happy • 

to aruin, 
Whi . qve, 

beautified bj 

.ai aruin. 

I said II, | 

a uin, 
Too fondly far to ' 

Lin aruin, 
I loved thi 
et foi the 

hi aruin. 

Bui 

tin, 
With clou 



THE FELON'S TRACK. 

When in some rocky glen, 

[in aruin, 
I share the wild dog's den, 

Eiblin aruin, 
Oppressed with woe and care, 

iep comes o'er me ll 
Methinks I hear thy prayer^ 

Eiblin aruin. 

Throughout that troubled rest, 
Eiblin aruin, 

Thy image fills my breast, 

Eiblin aruin, 

And ere the vision's tied, 

My cold and flinty bed 

Seems down unto my head, 

Eiblin aruin. 

As night's dark shadow flies, 
Eiblin aruin, 

Along the opening skies, 

Eiblin aruin, 

In the soft purpling ray, 

That heralds early day, 

I see thy fond smile play, 

Eiblin aruin. 

When, dangers thick'ning fast, 

Eiblin aruin, ' 

My fate seems sealed at last, 

Eiblin aruin. 

A low voice ever near, 

Still whispers in mine ear — 

For her sake do not fear — 

Eiblin aruin. 

And oh, 'tis that lone hope, 

Eiblin aruin, 

That nerves this heart to cope, 
Eiblin aruin. 

With peril and with pain, 

And surging of the brain, 

More boisterous than the main, 
Eiblin aruin. 

TO MY WIFE. 

And what was the world to me, love, 
Or why should its honors divide 

The feelings that centered in thee, love, 
As fondly you clung to my side ; 

Or why should ambition or glory, 
E'er tempt me to wander so far, 

For sake of distinction in story, 

From thee, my heart's faithiulest star. 

Or why should I call thee mine own, love, 
To sport with the life that was thine, 



Tin: FBLOlTfl TRACK 

B land overthrown. 
ike that do longer wan mi 
why should 1 pledge tor th 

What on ■ I to tin- 1. 

•ii.l all on 

b that was plighted to theel 

here, while l wander alone, love, 
Beneath : ; i Iowa of night, 

<>r lie with my head on i 

dawning of light, 
3 spirit iinthralled is returning, 
Where far from the cowardand slave, 
Her beacon of love is still bin 
light, to direct iue and Bai 

And Bhe, too, who watches beside thee, 

none other could loi 
To i i cherish and guide thee, 

I ep with, but never reprove, — 
-. she too, d unguarded, 

reed Bhe had leant on in twain. 
And though her dust tin; ..Jed, 

She'd love that love over again. 
CoOLMOCNTAIN WOOD. 

At Cork two families were compromised by my prolonged stay, 
one of them irretrievably, if I were arrested. However, the) 
placed themselves entirely and unconditionally at my disposal. I 
stated my objections to the proposed conveyance of a coal boat to 
Wales, where I would be equally exposed as in Ireland, and have 
infinitely less sympathy or assistance. I suggested one of the 
London steamers instead, which they agreed to. After son* 
Liminary negotiations, a person connected with one of tho» 
sels promi ecrete me and have me landed at Southamg 

where 1 could easily procure a passage to France. Just as this ar- 

ment was concluded, news arrived that Tipperary was . 
in anus, under the command of my friend, O'Mahonv. The : 
added that I V ciated with* him in command. Hour after 

hour brought >ry stranger than that which preceded it; 

but in each and all I found myself figuring in some character or 
. all, of course, contrary to the truth. This fact led at once 
icion of the accuracy of the whole. But I was aware 
thai caution was a leading characteristic of O'Mahony's genius, 
I felt assured he would not attempt any open movement without 
strong probabilities of success. The fabrications about myself I re- 
led to the belief that be wished it to appear he had my sanction 
and support. The vessel was to sail next day, and I should de- 
termine at oner, or risV the saleU of the family who protected me. 

( endeavored to find a middle course, and suggested the impossi- 
bility of Leaving the country while • ■■ vague report con- 
firmed the beliei that some at least oi its people were prepared to 

vindicate her liberty, or die nobly in its assertion. They acqui- 



TIIE FELON'S TRACK. 159 

esced, and the vessel was allowed to sail. I insisted, however, 
that after nightfall I should leave the house and take up my quarters 
in some obscure lodging house. Meantime it was arranged that if 
the next mail confirmed the accounts from Tipperary, 1 should be 
provided with a horse and car, and be able to leave Cork as I en- 
tered it. When night came, the lady of the house sternly and 
resolutely opposed my leaving it. She would not consent to free 
herself from a risk she took so much honest pleasure in encounter- 
ing. Another day and night left us in the same uncertainty. The 
reports were still more unsatisfactory and contradictory. But that 
there should be reports at all, satisfied my mind, and I finally 
prepared to start for Tipperary on the morning of the 29th of Sep- 
tember. 

Information at length reached me that the party under O'Mahony 
were dispersed and himself iled. The difficulty of my position, with 
respect to my protectors, left me no alternative. Any chance that 
presented itself should be embraced. The Bristol boat was in the 
river, panting to escape her anchorage ; and following the horse, 
which was to bear me to Tipperary, to the quay, I walked on board 
the "Juverna," just as she was loosing her cables. My bag- 
gage, made up in a small box, was put on board as a parcel ad- 
dressed to a young friend of mine in London. The few moments 
that intervened were fraught with most intense suspense. I stood 
on the fore deck among cattle, covered with rags and dirt, my eyes 
fixed on two detectives who stood at the cabin entrance, scrutiniz- 
ing narrowly the figure and features of every cabin passenger. The 
bell ran"", the detectives stepped on shore, one of my friends who 
watched my movements from a distance, waved a kind adieu, the 
Juverna slipped her cables, and by one bound was out in the river. 
The first motion of her paddles sounded to me like the assurance 
of fate, and I looked on the curling foam with measureless exulta- 
tion. The " Juverna" made a momentary halt at Passage, and 
then glanced gaily through Cove harbor out into the sea. As she 
cleared the road I turned back to look for the last time upon my 
father land. Her prospects, her promise, her strength, her hopes, 
her failure and her fall, rushed in burning memory through my 
brain. I endeavored to embody in the following verses, the feel- 
ings that agitated, and almost paralysed my every faculty of body 
and mind. I wrote them on a piece of paper that had been 
wrapped round some cheese. 

Away, away ; the good ship swings ; 

One heave, one bound, and off she's dashing, 
Expanding wide her snowy wings, 

The white foam round her paddles flashing. 
Away, away, the land recedes, 

Far into dim and dreary distance, 
As gallantly our packet speeds, 

Unconscious of the gale's resistance. 



!»;<> Tin; 

With pali 'ml aching Btomach, 

!'\ i trembled ;it the billo 

ached me in my narrow hammock. 
But now, I I'll 
That bear me from a Ian I 

on clou.!, 
Which mounting the i lue vault i . 
shroud, 
That pal] a the close of boisterous even — 
fs si irer than the form, 

font, the erace, from bK . (a 

Fairy riding on the Btorm,) 
Of the fleet trusty, digit Juverna. 
iv. away, one last look m< 

:ed land — 
Though the too >'er — 

One blessing for her truthful b 
Her proud old faith, though darkly grown, 
Still lingering by each cold hea 

: poor fool of fa 
iildsl thou but dream this mournful end, 
This midnight of a h \eat, 

Where shame and sorrow darkly blend — 
Couldst thou divine that thus bedecked, 

With raes and dirt, thine eyes downturned: 
Thou 'dst nee thy whole life's labor wrecked. 

Thy w :y hi a t within thee burned. 
— Away, away, in all the past, 

re's not an act 1 would recall, 
I bow d i'erwhelming blast, 

Bui 'tis the heart alone can tall, 
And mine ma] in defy, 

The fate that mocks it scoffingly. 

• 
.My voice could reach the prison grate, 

i i i 1 v, 
Con I 'ate. 

Could I but prove by word or act, 

Mi w fin my heart and purpose still, 
Their life's worst pang to counteract. 
Before their proud young cere still, 

— To live hut that tin; land they loved, 

Should yet assert it- native right 
That the immortal faith thei 

Should j i .. in victory's light. 

And, oh. to feel Mich promise high, 
Were last id light th 

[f a] flfered for the change of measure in tiie above, and its 

rhat conflicting sentiments, it would he found in the tumult of passions, 

excitei isappointraent and regret, with landing 

among cattle on the deck, and disguised in * ,i U j, on my 

country's shores for, it may lie. the last time, andthoug 

j and fall. Both fan' amended here, but : i 

i religious, toward thoughl then around 

• . i ven the structure into which they spontan sped Uiem- 




(/^U-c-vO/h^ I 0\ i*4Si^ 




THE FELON'S TRACK. 101 

Night soon fell drearily upon the water. I engaged a berth from 
one of the sailors, and before half an hour, lost all consciousness of 
countrv and friends, of wind and tide, and hope, and shame, and 
peril, in tranquil repose. On ascending next morning, the shores 
of England were in view, and we sailed up the channel to the 
mouth of the Avon under a calm and mellow sky. I had some 
breakfast with one of the cowherds. We were delayed several 
hours waiting for the tide, which were spent for the most part in 
making difficult evolutions ; and exhibiting to the cabin passengers 
the peculiar qualities of the Juverna. Night had fallen before we 
reached Bristol, and I slipped away from the boat, amid the con- 
fusion and bustle which checked the progress of the gay and rich, 
around whose footsteps avarice had gathered an eager and jostling 
crowd. Rude contact with, and unsavoury odours from, the un- 
clean multitude shocked their nervous sensibility, as they made 
their way to their hotels amidst obtrusive obsequiousness, while 
the lone outlaw's pathway lay free through the open street and 
uncontaminated air. But a wretched exterior has its disadvan- 
tages also. I dared not present myself at a hotel, and many of 
the humbler hostelries refused me admittance, believing, no doubt, 
either that the seeds of pestilence were in my rags, or not a copper 
in my pocket. Indeed, to no brain but that of a very imaginative 
genius w r ould the possibility of such a superfluity as a pocket 
suggest itself. All the beds "were •• full." At last I thought me of 
an expedient. I called for a glass of ale, for which, payment in 
advance was duly demanded. I handed a sovereign, which at 
once emptied a bed, provided I slept in a room with another per- 
son which I refused, feeling that I had acquired a footing. I had 
something to eat, and finally found that there was a vacant room. 

The next day was Sunday. No trains travelled to London ex- 
cept third class. This was rather unlucky, for I was aware, that 
certain straitened gentlemen were often obliged, by stress of 
circumstances — the pressure of business which brooked not a 
moment's delay — reluctantly to avail themselves of this mode of 
conveyance. I felt, too, that the loyalty of these slender aristo- 
crats, was on a par with the unhappy incidents which compelled 
them to consort with vulgar people, that is to say, so constrained, 
that however much against the impulses of their generous natures, 
they could not omit any opportunity of manifesting the sentiment 
in its full intensity. I selected my company on this occasion, 
being only anxious to exclude the " arbiters elegantiarum." Of my 
" compagnons de voyage," some were in gin, some in fumes, and 
some in glee, and the journey passed off without an incident. 

On arriving at the Paddington Terminus, an unlooked-for diffi- 
culty presented itself. My costume attracted universal attention. 
It was, in fact, outre even in comparison with the most outlandish ; 
for every article had been carefully selected for its singularity. 
My " caubeen" especially excited the risibility of the merry boys 
11 



1 6 2 TII, < FELON'S TRACK 

who thronged the streets. I was soon followed by an uproarious 
cioud ni' most incorrigible young rascals, who made lunges at my 
unfortunate head-gear. The] peered at me round lamp-posts, and 
occasionally, " Teigue," and " Plieilim,*' pronounced in a broad 
English accent, grated on my ear. Although not indisposed to be 
merry, 1 grasped one of my tormentors and handed him over to a 
policeman. The sentinel of city morals dismissed him with a 
harsh rebuke, and threatened "to haul up" whoever gave me further 
annoyance. We were then near Oxford-street. I told him I 
wanted to go to Tottenham Court road ; but after making several 
fruitless attempts to pronounce the name, his own fertile genius 
had to supply my deficiency. He walked with me until the hist un- 
ruly boy had disappeared, and then he sent me on my way rejoicing, 
after having spent some minutes in teaching me to articulate dis- 
tinctly " Tottenham Court road." It was already nightfall. I 
felt as if all danger were passed. I could not anticipate the check 
I was about to receive. 

I knew a man named Parker, who resided in Museum-street. I 
thought his house that to which I could easiest find access without 
exciting notice. I made my way to it unobserved, rapped, and to 
my great relief the door was opened by the man himself. He did 
not recognize me for some time, but as soon as he did, he fell into 
a paroxysm half hysterical, half frantic. I had completed his ruin, 
he exclaimed, and his unhappy family would have to curse me as 
the cause of his destruction. He was ready to sink on the floor 
in sheer terror, and with difficulty could he utter a request that I 
should instantly leave his house. This was a command, however 
harsh and heartless, which I dared not resist, for I was forced to 
admit to myself that under his terrified exterior might lurk a senti- 
ment baser than fear. 

I left the place in utter dismay. I could not venture into a 
house such as I had lodged in at Bristol, the night before, because 
my person was well known in London, and because those places 
arc frequented by characters of all sorts. I could not venture, in 
my then guise, to the house of my young friend to whom I had 
addressed the parcel, because my appearance there would inevita- 
bly attract the notice of the policeman. I dare not, of couse, ven- 
ture to a respectable hotel. Thus perplexed, I bethought of a 
Woman with whom I used formerly to lodge, and I repaired to her 
100ms (she had herself become a lodger). I met her on the stairs, 
where she nearly fainted. She hurried me into the street, and 
there told me that a person who lived in the house was actually 
Watching to betray me. She suggested the house of an Irish- 
woman who lived in a court hard by. I had no alternative. The 
poor woman received me with tears. Such was her emotion that 
I could not hesitate to trust her with my life. Her son and 
daughter-in-law, who spent the day with her, were about returning 
home. They lived in the suburbs, at the Surrey side. They pro- 
posed to take me to their cottage, and I readily consented. We 



THE FELON'S TRACK. 163 

got a coach and drove home. The kindliest attentions were 
lavished on me by these people. As soon as I arrived, I shaved 
and cleansed myself; no small task, considering that I had on a 
fortnight's beard, and had rubbed my face over with soot and 
grease. 

I had a shirt and clothes from my host, with whom, in my new 
trim, I sat down to a comfortable supper. Early next morning he 
informed my friend of my arrival, and I was at once surrounded 
by several who would risk their lives for my safety. I had by this 
time begun to regard many singular escapes of mine as pre- 
ordained by Providence, and I ceased to feel much concern in my 
fate. I cherished a presentiment of safety until it grew into a 
conviction, and acting on its assurance, I gave way to an uncon- 
cern that was quite inexplicable to those around me. But one 
feeling of fear lingered with me : it w r as lest Parker should add 
treason to cowardice, which certain ominous expressions that 
were said to fall from him, confirmed. I otherwise felt so secure, 
and so thankful to my entertainers, that I would gratify their 
wishes to remain a day or two longer with them ; but the tide 
answered so well — the whole journey to Boulogne being by night, 
that I determined to avail myself of the opportunity. I donned my 
clerical costume, got me a sleek wig, folded a stole round my 
breviary, and with Christian patience awaited the hour of depar- 
ture. I was to be accompanied to Paris by my young friend, who 
spoke the French language perfectly, and was well acquainted with 
the^ etiquette of the journey. We entered the express train at 
London Bridge at half-past eight. When it was just starting, my 
host, who had accompanied us, clung to the panel of the door, 
and warned me, with provoking warmth, to " write, write, as soon 
as I was safe." As the train drove off and his boisterous adieus 
died on my ear, I lost the last feeling of anxiety on my own ac- 
count. The carriage was full — a German with a toothache — two 
gossiping old bachelors — a jolly English resident of the sunny 
south — my friend and myself occupied the six seats. However 
fluttered may be the hearts of the passengers, whatever may be 
the pressure of guilt, or fear, or remorse upon their souls, the 
heart of the mighty engine, on its fiery course, throbs only with one 
passion, namely, how to outspeed the flight of time. Our fellow 
travellers conversed upon all subjects, and wished for my opinion 
upon each ; but I was so reserved and pious, and my friend so 
ready and witty, and exuberant in his gayety, that my obstinate 
silence was pardoned or forgotten. We were able to make our 
way on board Her Majesty's mail packet by the light of a clouded 
moon, then fast waning. I did not trouble myself to learn the 
name of the boat, but she appeared endued with more than the 
speed of fire. She flew over her allotted trip in one hour and 
three-quarters, and about two o'clock I set my foot on the free soil 
of the young Republic. 

I had longed for such an event with an intensity of /eeling not 



16l TITE FELON'S TRACK. 

to be del nay, I had often enjoyed anticipated exultation 

from indulging in a vague dream of its bare possibility, which ab- 
sorbed all the gloom and horror of my situation. Yet when I 
stepped BeCUTelVj on what, to me, was hallowed ground, an ade- 
quate appreciation of the circumstance was far from realized in my 
feelings. New sights and sounds began to share my thoughts and 
engross my comprehension. In a moment the past vanished, with 
all its disquietude and alarm ; and I entered on the new scene with 
a taste akin to the appetite of a convalescent. If I felt any deep 
emotion, it was only when my mind recurred to the fate of my 
comrades, or the feelings of joy with which my family would learn 
the tidings of my safety. We left our baggage at the Custom-house — 
mine consisted of a pair of boots stowed away in a rather capacious 
valise — handed the keys, in due form, to the commissaire of police, 
and directed them to be sent after us to our hotel. A commis- 
sionaire, so they call themselves, appeared in the morning with 
the keys, which he handed us bowing, adding that all was right. 

There was a fete at Boulogne. Nothing was to be seen but 
glittering bayonets, and nothing to be heard but the harsh mono- 
tonous sound of the drum. Flags floated in the breeze, and cheers 
echoed from the distant hills, and everything proclaimed the fes- 
tivity of liberty. It was a grand sight, and yet a sad one for me. 
I could not help contrasting, with the scene before me, the fate of 
my own unfortunate country. At ten o'clock we were on our way 
to Paris. 

Such was the anxiety with which I gazed on the glad face of 
that sunny land, during the entire of the journey, that I could at 
this moment recognize every object that attracted my attention. 
But the scope of this narrative, now drawing rapidly to a close, 
does not embrace a description of France or Paris. Many pens 
have plied the task, and were mine more adequate than any, it 
were unfit to interweave so bright a theme with the gloomy details 
of this mournful history. 

There remains to be told but one incident. On our arrival at 
the Paris terminus, we got into an English omnibus which brought 
us to an English hotel — the Hotel de Louvre in the rue St. Thomas. 
There we dined together, some dozen or so of the passengers. 
After dinner my friend and I had champagne. While discussing 
its merits the conversation turned on Ireland. - Opinions, of course, 
varied. Mine, it need scarcely be added, to an Englishman's ear 
sounded bloodily, and I urged them with the vehemence of baffled 
hope. An old English gentlemen of that quiet school which affects 
liberality and moderation, but entertains deepest animosity, depre- 
cated the violence of my language and sentiments, and expressed 
his painful astonishment at hearing such opinions from the mouth 
of a clergyman ; " they would not be unbecoming," added he. " with 
great bitterness of tone "that sanguinary brigand Dohcny." In- 
voluutarily and simultaneously my friend and myself burst into an 
immoderate lit of laughter. The gentleman could not at all com- 



THE FELON'S TRACK. 105 

prebend our mirtb. He had he thought delivered himself of very 
sound and very gentlemanly philosophy, and be was really shocked 
to find it bad made an impression so different from what lie bad 
expected. He bad travelled much, be said, and met men of many 
lands, of whom, Irishmen were ever tbe most polite and best bred 
gentlemen ; a fact which rendered our laughing in his face rather 
inexplicable. The conversation was again resumed and again 
waxed warm. I expressed my opinion of English paupers in Ire- 
land, and said they ought to be transported in a convict ship back 
to Liverpool, in tbe same fashion as Irish paupers of a different 
class are transmitted to Dublin by the Liverpool guardians. To 
this he replied by saying that there would be no peace in Ireland 
until the Mitchels and Dohenys were hanged, a fate which the 
latter was hastening to with irresistible impetus. At this self- 
satisfied prophecy we laughed louder than before, whereupon he 
waxed wrathful, and repeating his experience of the world in 
general, and of Irishmen in particular, demanded an explanation 
of the laugh. I said, " that is a straightforward question, and de- 
mands a direct answer. It shall be given, although you have 
refused to answer, as all Englishmen of your class invariably do, 
several direct questions which I have put to you. I laughed because 
I am that same sanguinary Dobeny :" and pulling oft my wig, I 
added, " me Voila at your service." The sudden appearance of 
him who answered the incantations of the weird sisters, could not 
produce a greater panic. Chairs tumbled in every direction, and 
their occupiers fled the room, leaving myself and my friend ample 
space to enjoy the joke and the champagne in undisturbed quiet. 

I have nothing further to relate in connection with myself. 
Paris appeared to me clothed with a grandeur, a glory, and a 
beauty, infinitely surpassing every description of them I had ever 
read or heard. Standing in any commanding spot surrounded by 
the monuments of her splendour and magnificence, upon each of 
which the genius of the land shed its immortal lustre ; one feels 
coerced to the conviction, that the high command and abiding 
destiny of France must be equally imperishable. But these con- 
siderations belong not to my story, and I renounce the idea of 
commemorating the sensations of gratified pride which that gor- 
geous capital awakened in my bosom. Her architecture and her 
art, her memorials of glory, and the triumphs of her progress, re- 
quire to be scanned by the eye and portrayed by the ability of 
artistic genius. I must content myself with preserving a delighted 
recollection of the French metropolis, which no scene or circum- 
stance, possible in life, can ever efface. The companion of all my 
hazards in Ireland, whom I again joined in Paris, more than shared 
my enthusiasm. He spent all his days wandering among the 
galleries of the Louvre or the statues of Versailles, forgetting in the 
sublime presence of their unmatched chefs d' ouvres, all the shame 
and perils of the past. I hope he may be induced to give the result 
of his long examinations and fond reveries to the public. 



106 TIN: rXLOlTfl TRACK. 



CONCLUSION. 



A WORD remains to be Baid, in reference to the fate of those 
who were the special objects of tin- Government's attention. Of 
the six lor whom a reward was offered, lour escaped, namely, Mr 
Dillon, Mr. O'Gorman, Mr. O'Mafaony, and myself. Mr. Dillon 

was the first who left Ireland. Late in August lie sailed from Gal- 

way and landed at New York. After a voyage of Beven weeks, 
in the same vessel sailed .lames P. Smyth, who was dis- 
patched from Cashel to Dublin with directions from Mr. O'Brien. 
Richard O'Gorman, accompanied by John O'Donnell, and Daniel 
Doyle, sailed from the mouth of the Shannon on board a vessel 
bound for Constantinople. After landing in the Turkish capital, 
they were obliged to lie concealed until able to procure passports 
for Algiers. Many foolish stories have been circulated in reference 
to Mr. O'Gorman a adventures and disguises in Ireland. Not one 
of them has the least truth in it. He, or his companions never 
assumed any disguise, and though their adventures were more 
perilous, they were not so romantic as those that have been related. 
A more detailed account of their wanderings would no doubt be 
as interesting to my readers as it would .be agreeable to myself. 
But both the time and the limits, I have proposed to myself, for 
this publication exclude it here. I could not, without too long a 
delay, acquire that minute and accurate knowledge of facts and 
dates, which would be indispensable to such a history. 

But of succeeding events in Ireland, and the men who controlled 
them, it is imperative to speak more in detail. John O'Mahony 
was their chief, and John Savage his principal counsellor and 
comrade. The former, although not compromised by any act 
previous to the arrest of Mr. O'Brien, evaded the vigilance 
of the detectives, and continued moving about from place to 
place, being generally guarded while he slept by a large number 
of faithful followers. No man was ever followed with truer devo- 
tion, or served with more unwavering fidelity. He might have 
continued m the same district with perfect safety up to the pre- 
sent hour. But every moment of his time was engrossed by the 
endeavour to rouse the country to some becoming effort. John 
Savage who had come to Carrick on a visit to a relation, partook 
of his enthusaism and shared his toil. They spent many anxious 
nights m counsel together, when it was supposed all spirit had left 
the country. The first ostensible object that brought the people 
together under their immediate guidance and control, was the 
reaping of a field of wheat belonging to O'Mahony. A vast crowd 
amounting to several hundred stalwart men assembled. They had 
scarcely entered on their labour, when the approach of a troop of 
horse was announced. O'Mahony and Savage were compelled to 
retire. The military cavalcade entered the field, and rode rudely 
among the men and ripe corn.^Still the reapers desisted not. 



TIIE FELON'S TRACK. 107 

They proceeded with their labours sedulously and silently. But 
there was no pretext for arresting any of the men, and no pretext 
afforded for further outrage, and the business of the day went on 
without further outrage from the soldiers. This occurred on the 
22nd of August. Some days later, sullen crowds were seen as- 
cending Aheny Hill, about five miles to the north of Carrick-on- 
Suir. By what mysterious agency they were directed none could 
tell. About a similar distance from the town, in the opposite di- 
rection, near the village of Portlaw, another camp was formed 
with equal rapidity and mystery. With these men John Savage 
took his station. "He was entirely unknown to the people ; and 
owed his influence over them to his singular resolution. The un- 
derstanding was, that these two bodies, and a third consisting of, 
an equal number of men which was promised from Kilkenny, 
should march simultaneously on the town of Carrick and the fort 
at Besborough where five hundred men were encamped. He 
who undertook to lead the Kilkenny] men, went on the execu- 
tion of his mission, leaving O'Mahony at one side, and Savage on 
the other, to contend with the impetuosity of their respective fol- 
lowers, who demanded with violence to be led on. As much per- 
haps from the precariousness of their situation, as from a reckless 
daring, they could not brook the least delay. Their leaders, on 
the other hand, urged the necessity of steadiness and prudence. 
It was too late for such policy. The time between the first step 
in revolution and action, is the most trying to the courage and 
faith of undisciplined men. In this instance it "produced fatal re- 
sults. The weakness of the timid increased, and the courage of 
the boldest was quelled. Suspicion was aroused, and desertion 
was the inevitable consequence. O'Mahony found it impossible 
to withstand the clamorous urgency of the men, and all his pre- 
parations were necessarily of a hasty and imperfect character. 
The arrival of the party from Kilkenny was the utmost limit of 
inaction that would be endured ; and the leaders saw with regret 
that they had yielded too soon to the demands of those who pre- 
cipitated the rising. The true guarrantee of success would con- 
sist in perfect preparation under cover of secrecy, so as thatgthe 
assembling could be followed by an immediate blow. 

Scouring parties from each rendezvous, proceeded through the 
ccurtny in search of arms. Provisions were liberally supplied by 
the neighboring farmers ; and numbers were hourly arriving from 
distant parts of the country. But those who were engaged in the 
search for ams, attacked police barracks and private houses. In 
general, these enterprises were rash, ill-advised, and ill-arranged. 
In some instances they were successful, and in some they were re- 
pulsed with loss of life, while the police were able to effect a safe 
retreat. At the Tipperary side, two men were killed in the attack 
on the Glenbour barracks : and at the Waterford side, one man 
was shot at Portlaw in the assault on the police barrack, and two 
in the attack on the Reverend Mr Hill's house. These repulses 



1GS Till: FELOITB TRACK. 

checked the ardor of the boldest, and gave rise to disunion and 
distrust. Meantime, the promised reinforcements from Kilkenny 

failed to redeem the pledge that R n in their name. A 

wlmlc day and night passed, and no tidings of them arrived. 
Several of those who were loudest and most urgent left the camp. 
A very large foroe, however, remained; but after delaying two 
days without hearing of the Kilkenny men, they determined to 
disperse. The party at Portlaw adopted the same resolution, and 
O'Mahony and Savage had to shift for themselves. A reward was 
offered for O'Mahony* but he eluded his pursuers, and in a few 
days was beyond their reach, lie embarked at Bonmahon in the 
county of Waterford and crossed to Wales, where he was con- 
i for some time until he found an opportunity of escaping te 
France. Savage, whose person was not much known, made his 
way to Dublin, whence he sailed for America direct. 

The Kilkenny men arrived at Aheny on the morning after 
those under O'Mahony had dispersed, and finding the place 
deserted, they immediately returned. This accident once more 
baffled [all hope of a struggle. From beginning to end, some 
mischance marred every propitious circumstance that presented 
itself. It seemed as if tfie failure had been predestined. But to 
yield to such a fate, to abjure the great and true faith which the 
attempt of the last unhappy year quickened in the hearts of all 
men, would be distrust of God's mercy and justice. In the strug- 
gle that preceded the outbreak, a great victory was won. The 
most formidable power that ever fettered the consciences of men 
truck to the earth. Truth, long lost sight of, was again re- 
stored, as one of the great agencies of national deliverance, and 
national elevation. The question between England and Ireland 
assumed its real character ; and although huxtering politicians 
have since endeavored to set up the honor of the island lor sale, 
they have been only able to dispose of their own characters. The 
people have not debased themselves. In the lying homage to the 
Queen of England they took no part. They have preserved 
through the severest trials, the old immortal yearning of their race, 
and the arms they had provided themselves with in '48, they have 
guarded religiously, in the hope of using them on some day of 
brighter auspices and loftier destiny. 



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